Consequences
by cwamcd
Summary: twin!Harry-ok Cliche never thought I would but-what're ya gonna do? Will be dark Harry and very powerful. Summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Everything, particularly mistakes, have consequences. Those living in wartime are acutely aware of the fact, but do they truly understand? And are they ready to accept those consequences? Twin Harry story. He will be powerful. He will be skilled. He will be intelligent. And he will be dark. Oh yes. Everyone else will **not** be pathetic.

Disclaimer: I claim nothing! Nothing, you hear? It's all Rowling's!

**Chapter 1: Default**

The Dark Lord Voldemort's tall form strode confidently and gracefully down the country lane. The thick deep black robes cloaking his length from head to toe were heavily enchanted to be light and comfortable as well as heavily protective, allowing the gentle breeze to pass through and relax him. Bright scarlet eyes surveyed the running children with cool detachment and devilishly handsome features breathed in the magically charged evening air. Fitting that today, Samhain, would be the day he would meet his destiny and preempt that thrice-damned prophecy standing in the way of his plans; what with the energizing mix of Death and Life magic in the air- it was perfectly symbolic that the death of the prophecy child would ensure his survival and ultimate rule.

It was not reassuring that he had risen from his roots at the orphanage and being such a weak fool to becoming a giant amongst men-a polarizing force in the world and everyone, whether they revered or hated him, recognized him as being above themselves-to a baby killer. However, while not relishing the idea, neither was he particularly bothered. Emotions were for the weak, and he did not get to where he was by being weak. The children were a threat and their parents were enemies. Thus, they would be removed. Slytherin reasoning at its finest.

Clamping down on his thoughts the Dark Lord didn't even break in stride crossing the disgustingly muggle white picket fence and dispelling the perimeter alarm ward covered in the mudbloods magical signature with a few minute flicks of his wand that had suddenly appeared in his hand. Apparently being raised with muggles had saved her from _complete_ blind faith in the old fool, but honestly a perimeter alarm? What part of _Dark Lord_ didn't this woman understand?

Striding up the walk the Dark Lord could see the entire family playing merrily in the living room, as if they had nothing to fear in the world. Idiotic light wizards. Something unexpected happened, however-just as Voldemort observed the Potters, specifically the little one year old twins Harry and Casey, the little black haired boy looked up and caught sight of him as well. Quite remarkable, given how well he blended into the shadows (through a mixture of clothing and magic). After a few moments the child giggled and pointed at him. The overly exaggerated expressions of terror on the adults faces when they looked around were, in the humble and quite normal opinion of the Dark Lord, very humorous.

He saw the mudblood racing up the stairs with the twin boys and the father run to the entrance hall to no doubt try to stall him just as he crossed the last few steps to the door. A wordless violent diagonal slash of his faithful Yew wand sent the door blasting into the hall. Incidentally, James Potter, Auror Captain extraordinaire, had come flying in only to catch the door in a blow to the head that also sent him careening through the wall behind him. Snorting elegantly, the Dark Lord threw an incapacitating nightmare curse after him. That, coupled with head trauma, should keep him down until Voldemort was done here. Having slain Charlus and Dorea Potter months ago, along with the Potter ancestral manor, James now held the Wizengamot votes, and as such, was a prime candidate for the Imperious. He'd catch the Potter patriarch on the way out.

Following the magical presences he could sense the Dark Lord quickly located the nursery and entered just as easily. In her haste, Lily Potter had left her wand downstairs. A mistake she would pay dearly for.

"Stand aside, girl." Voldemort hissed in his cold, commanding voice laced with magic compelling her to obey.

Lily however had a strong mind, and would never _dream_ of abandoning her boys. Instead she refused and begged him to take her in their place. Most likely believing her husband to be dead, he mused. Not that it would likely matter, _love_ blinded and consumed the weak. Even the thought was thought with a profound and menacing sneer. Snape desired the girl, and his information was critical, so Voldemort rather thought that, as a Dark Lord, he had been perfectly generous with the offer. But his immortality, specifically the sniveling roadblock these infants potentially presented to it, was infinitely more important.

"_Terebro_" he hissed. The drilling curse caught her in the ribs and sent her sprawling off to the corner, unconscious and bleeding. Maybe she'd live, maybe she wouldn't. Whatever.

Turning to look at the twins, one of which was the child of prophecy, Voldemort considered which to off first.

The one with soft tufts of chestnut brown hair was bigger. Chubby, but in a cute baby way (not that that is how Voldemort would describe it) with blue-grey eyes he no doubt inherited from his grandmother on the Potter side who was a Black, you could already see the Potter features starting to shine through in his face. Once he grew up a bit and as long as he stayed somewhat-active he would be quite a charismatic young man like his father before him. The boys magic was already very strong- much more so than any of the children of his followers, but that was to be expected. In these boys the Potter and Black lines were mixed, both very old and both descended from different lines of the Peverell family- Potter from Ignotus the famous Artificer and Illusionist, and Black from Cadmus the equally infamous Necromancer and Soul Mage. When old powerful lines were infused with new blood the results were often awe-inspiring. It was the same phenomenon his own magic came from.

The younger, Harry, was noticeably smaller, but that was to be expected with twins. He was also the one _not_ currently screaming his head off. Rather, he was examining the Dark Lord with curiosity sparking in startling Avada Kedavra eyes peering out through bangs of messy jet black hair. His eyes were not the only thing inherited from his, admittedly very attractive, mother. His features were sharper but at the same time smoother, more aristocratic. Well, as much as a one year old can _be_ aristocratic. It was obvious to any who had seen the boys that Harry would one day be very popular with the ladies, a fact that had his godfather Sirius Black grinning like a loon whenever it was discussed. In fact, if his hair ever calmed, Harry could end up looking very much like the Dark Lord himself. Harry's magic was even more powerful, by a fairly sizable gap, and he had a much greater innate connection to it. It felt-different. The Dark Lord couldn't exactly put his finger on it. It was undoubtedly Potter and Black magic but there was more to it than that. And it was more neutral, more-free. Of course, all children are going to be mostly neutral, but the older boy, Casey, his magic showed much more influence from his family's light orientation. Nothing was set in stone, but Harry had absolutely no restrictions. He could go far. Such a pity.

Either way, the Dark Lord had always trusted his instincts, and right now they were screaming at him that this boy was important. Therefore, resting the tip of his wand gently on the boys forehead, the Dark Lord Voldemort said a sardonic goodbye and whispered the words to the killing curse almost lovingly, eager anticipation filling every inch of his being. And that's when it all went to hell.

Pain. Blindingly intense and absolute agony caught the Dark Lord completely off guard as he didn't even have the chance to register the flash of green before he was forcefully ejected from his body. In his independent training and studies during his travels, Lord Voldemort had utilized a time-turner to condition himself against pain. Mental attacks, physical torture, he could even shrug off the Cruciatus from all but his top followers. He could still throw even those off, but they at least required some effort. Nothing could have prepared him for this. In the mindless agony he didn't feel his soul fragment latch onto young Harry Potter; nor did he notice it when his wand, his constant companion since he was eleven, hit the floor and rolled under a desk to lodge in a small crack between the floorboard and wall, blending in perfectly and cast in shadow.

Quickly his spirit fled Godric's Hollow to be nearer one of his Horcruxes, get control of himself, and plan.

In the commotion that followed, little Casey Potter would be found awake, crying but amazingly alive. He would be unmarked, but coated in Lord Voldemort's magic, residue from the magical backlash. Harry would be found free of such magic, free of much magic at all really, although that would really just be momentary fatigue from blocking an unblock able curse. The curious scar on his head would be dismissed as odd because of Albus Dumbledore's desperate need for relief that the war was over, at least for now. He therefore wouldn't dig too deep, hailing Casey Potter as The-Boy-Who-Lived. The younger brother Harry would be pushed to the shadows, where five years later, he would find a wand…

A/N: this is a cliché (at least to start) twin Harry story. As such, he will be neglected and abused. However, as evil as his family will be, his mom will eventually come around, but not before Harry is established as fiercely independent and it certainly won't be all hugs and kisses. There will also not be any other siblings because if they're going to ignore one for the other, why would they have like 3-5 more? I've never understood that. Or when they send him off to the Dursley's for whatever reasons-then just have more kids. Seriously? Anyway next chapter soon.


	2. An Early Start

PLEASE READ: First off, I apologize for lying when I said "next chapter soon". I have excuses, but I won't bother you with them now. This story is going to be a little different from what I had originally planned. Longer, for one, I'm splitting this into 3 to 6 separate stories; ambitious, I know. Also, the twin thing is now a detail, rather than the premise of the story, as is the WBWL. I don't know what is going to happen to Casey yet, only that something pivotal in the third story involving Casey will occur, and it will deeply affect Harry personality-wise and the course he is taking. Now this chapter will probably be somewhat choppy, seeing as I wrote the first part awhile ago (actually the same night I posted ch. 1), but it should be smoothed out after this. I've pretty much been outlining and mapping out where everything will be going and I'm almost done with that so there it is. I will say that if everything works out the way I hope it will, this will end up being pretty epic.

Now this chapter is kinda short. You guys _could_ have all the way up to right after the sorting and it was pretty long, but I decided that a regular writing and posting schedule would be decidedly more conducive to the overall flow and progression of the story, as well as to character development. So, the good news is I have the next two chapters written and almost ready. The plan is to post a chapter every Monday, and to stay ahead by a few chapters. If I get five chapters ahead, you'll get a second chapter on Tuesday. If I get to ten, you'll get a third on Wednesday and so on and so forth. So, that's how this is going to work.

Lastly, I've changed this from a "T" story to "M". Er…..sorry to those of you bothered by this; one day, I'm gonna write a teen story….this just isn't it. I will hold off upping the rating until it becomes necessary, which will most likely be third year, so hopefully you'll give it a chance.

Sorry about all that. Oh, and many thanks to my three reviewers. I appreciate the support. Also, if you're reading: anyone who reviewed my Harry/Bella oneshot-thank you, glad you liked it.

Now on with it!

**Ch. 2: An Early Start**

Eleven year old Harry Potter had a plan. It was exciting but at the same time terrifying. It was only half past four in the morning and the sun was barely starting to show signs of rising. Harry was up for two reasons; one, he simply was too excited to sleep anymore and two, part of the plan required him to be gone before _they _woke up.

Donning his midnight blue outer robes and heavy black cloak Harry slipped into the parlor of the Potter home completely silent, hardly a whisper of displaced air to announce his presence. Taking the Floo to Gringotts (too many questions at the Leaky Cauldron) Harry strode done the front steps and drew up his hood. Not hesitating in the slightest, Harry fixed his expression and stance into a confident blank mask, even bringing a faux sense of calm to the forefront of his mind, and stalked directly into Knockturn Alley.

Sneaking out wasn't exactly imperative. It's not like his "family" would miss him or ask after him. Or bloody notice at all. But it was better this way; less people meant less questions. And if he could get what he needed to do done by the time the late morning crowds arrived, he could come back to the main alley and be seen where he was supposed to be seen. Not to mention he hoped that, with any luck, the majority of the unsavory type characters would all be passing out drunk right about this time. It was his first trip into the darker side of town after all, and he did not want it to be his last.

Pulling his robes tighter around him, Harry checked his weapons hidden in various parts around his body and brought his magic up, ready and waiting. The few early morning patrons subconsciously took a wary step back but otherwise ignored him. Harry had developed quite well over the last decade and got over his smallness real quick. Still thin, he was nonetheless quite tall, and walked upright with a calm stride. His bright emerald green eyes had changed to a mesmerizing kind of blue-green with hidden flecks of gold around the outer rim and silver on the inside. He had inherited his mother's slim figure and despite only being eleven moved with the beginnings of a predatory grace. His hair had mellowed to where it was not exactly flat but he no longer looked like he had recently been electrocuted either. In fact he just left it natural most of the time and had a kind of laid-back surfer look going on. Pale skin as only a true Englishman can have against dark hair and clothes brought out his more alluring features. Harry did indeed look like a perfect mix between his mother and a young Tom Riddle. If it wasn't for the whole twin thing he would have wondered. The only ones who seemed immune to his charm would be family and friends.

Harry was quite happy with his physical appearance; he wanted nothing to connect him to James. Or Casey for that matter. The Potters were supposedly once very nice people. Hmm. They had been swept up by the fame. They were snobbish, rude, and very, very, _very_ self-righteous. All of them. For as long as Harry could remember it had been Casey this and Casey that. He Harry had started as an afterthought. He had grown into a burden. He was now hated.

Harry was four the first time he had been forgotten. They had been visiting his mum's sister and her family. Harry would have been very agreeable with how they treated the Potters if that pure loathing had not been transferred to him also. Sad that, even at that young age he had already thought of himself as separate from them. It took him a week with those _muggles_ before he'd had enough and summoned the Knight Bus. If he'd thought he'd had it bad before he now learned the value of being able to fade into the background. They tried to put him in a _cupboard_. Lily had had the nerve to sniff at him and say "oh, it's you" and James just looked at the bruises covering his small frame with a kind of unholy interest.

Harry saw the store he was approaching, Borgin and Burke's, was empty but for the shopkeeper. Good. His heartbeat increased slightly as he entered, he _needed_ help to make a portkey.

Harry was a smart boy. While his parents were always surrounding Casey and teaching him how to fly (James) or singing to him and telling him how proud they were (Lily), Harry was left on his own. Actually looking back to those days being ignored seems a blessing. The house elves made sure he ate properly, and had a regular play time supervised by them in the small woods behind the Potter home. He taught himself to read at age two; Sirius encouraged this by bringing him children books, proud of him when he had the time to spare to remember his godson. All hopes that this would impress his parents or earn their affection were dashed when he was coldly chastised for trying to steal Casey's "rightfully earned attention" and sent on his way with a slap to his wrist.

From then on Harry stayed in the shadows, learning to keep attention off of himself. It was tricky for awhile, Casey had an annoying habit of breaking things or hurting Harry and then calling his parents to tell them that _Harry_ had done those very things to _him_. Whether or not Casey knew that this led to Harry being beaten and belittled Harry didn't know, but it didn't matter. Casey was a bully, and utterly concerned with only himself. He was just a- well, not exactly _pudgy_, but thick- kid whose every whim was catered to and exercised his sadistic streak on his twin. Watch out Hogwarts, here comes Princess Casey, Gryffindor House of course, where else would I possibly go you mini-Death Eater?

Entering the shop as silently as he entered every room, Harry allowed his startling eyes to sweep the room slowly. There were a few bookcases in the back corner near the counter covered with obviously magical glass, a few larger items in the middle of the floor the purposes of which Harry was unsure of, and other random questionable objects and artifacts here and there. Besides the exit at his back and a grimy window looking like nothing short of a Blasting Curse would open it, the only other out was a door behind the counter, but that was an unknown. Most likely it led to the real merchandise, the stuff that was illegal and actually malicious, but it wasn't definite. This was something Sirius had talked about on one of his few extended visits to England. Although he held the prestigious (in his opinion) position of Ambassador to the Assembled Island Nations of the Caribbean, he was also on the reserve-list for the Hit Wizards. So, in the ever-ongoing effort to better himself Harry picked it up and started practicing evaluating all possible exits, cover, weapons, etc. at a glance whenever he entered a room.

Finally bringing his attention to the shopkeeper who had been eyeing him up the whole time with a kind of uneasy sneer, Harry made his way over. The purpose of this little foray into the back alley pawn shop (as Harry referred to Borgin and Burke's in his mind) was to procure a portkey, the destination of which was to be alterable at a later date. Harry planned to use it on the train to get to Hogwarts early and skip the ridiculous ride which would take hours. This would serve several other purposes as well however; he would get there early to scope out the place, keep his belongings on his person at _all_ times, and avoid having the Trace put on him when the first years rode the boats under the castle. There were several spells, potions, and rituals for both the wand and person, of course, to get rid of it, and Harry was fairly confident he could pull off the vast majority of them. But it would be so much easier, not to mention simpler, to just not have it placed on him in the first place.

The Potter's were no strangers to the halls of Hogwarts. No, over the past decade they had been there quite frequently for various reasons, but no matter what that reason was, Harry was not wanted there and left to his own devices. Thus, he knew his way around the twists and turns intimately. It wouldn't be a problem to get set up and join the first years quietly before the sorting.

Now standing before the counter, Harry gave the greasy man a nod and greeted him, "Good Morning, Mr…..?"

"Burke." He answered cautiously amused.

"Mr. Burke." Harry reiterated with another nod and a polite but sharp smile. "I find myself in need of your services. Nothing too illicit, but perhaps not entirely without consequences should the authorities learn of it. Will this be a problem?"

"Well, young sir, that will depend entirely upon the service requested."

"Hmm. A portkey. One use only and the destination need not be set, I would prefer to do that myself later."

"You?" Asked Mr. Burke skeptically.

"I'm not your usual eleven year old."

And it was true. But the biggest disbelief in Burke's mind was most likely that Harry would be able to work such advanced magic without spending years getting accustomed to a wand and using it daily. But in this too, Harry had an advantage. It was a secret he had been keeping from everyone for around five years now.

(flashback)

Six year old Harry Potter couldn't believe what was happening. Well, actually he _could_, but he preferred not to. Over the years it had been made clear to him that Casey was special and he was not. Still, Potter Manor was big, so why did he have to live in here? This morning his mother had woken him early in the morning and bluntly told him he couldn't share a room with his celebrity brother anymore and to get the hell in the old nursery. The rest of the family avoided that room like the plague, being the place the Dark Lord had tried to kill them and all, except to store old boxes of junk. Oh how Harry hated them all. He had cried long and hard after the whole learning to read thing when he was three. He would shed no more tears for the likes of them. He had been despondent after the "Dursley incident", feelings of worthlessness run rampant. They weren't worth it; he wouldn't _let_ them have the means to affect him so. All that was left in little Harry was a cold rage and an unbreakable determination to become strong enough to cut this part of his life as a distant memory.

Sitting there in the dark amidst old boxes and rickety furniture, something took hold of little Harry. His shadowy dark companion usually kept away in a far corner of his mind, woke up. It expanded, merging with the consciousness around it quite a bit more. Harry felt it stirring and had a vague idea of what had happened. While this was somewhat worrisome, everything was also much clearer to Harry now. He would be better than them, all of them. And he would do it for himself.

Abruptly coming back to himself, Harry cleared his head and looked around. Something was tingling at the edge of his senses, almost as if they were reaching out to something. And something was reaching back. Standing up and looking around, Harry finally found it five minutes later. On hands and knees, Harry found something between the floorboard and the wall. Blowing the dust off Harry gasped. It was a wand, a yellowish-white wand, so very smooth with a finely crafted handle, and it was calling to him. There was something about it, something alluring but at the same time foreboding; Harry somehow just _knew_ that this wand was special, more so than his parents'. Harry hesitated but his shadowy companion was urging him on, so Harry reached out and dug the wand out of the little crack in the corner.

Immediately power flooded his small form. Harry's breath caught in his throat, caught in the moment as his eyes glazed over. This was like no magic he had ever felt; it was cool but not unpleasant at all, quite the opposite. His heart beat frantically, pounding a tattoo in his chest. The beginnings of an aura, a golden-orange in some places and deep purple in others, flickered about his being, turning a blood red near the wand, not that Harry was aware of it. He could feel it in his chest, wrapping around, taking hold. Six year olds weren't supposed to get wands, but with his…ahem, _advanced studies_, his magic seemed to have awoken early. The dark companion in his mind had flared to life briefly, and was now practically purring.

Harry came out of the euphoria and plopped onto the floor, staring at the wand in blank shock. He wasn't stupid, not at all. No matter all the various scenarios flashing through his mind, Harry _knew_ deep down that there was only one person this wand could possibly belong to. He had been defeated here, after all. His body destroyed, of course the wand would clatter to the floor, it must have rolled under the desk…Harry gulped, the knowledge of just who exactly this wand belonged to setting in. But slowly, the fear and anxiety faded away, replaced by excitement and exhilaration. Oh, the possibilities. Slowly, a somewhat dark smile spread across his lips, and a disturbing glow in his eyes that looked unnatural on a child so young as him faded as the shadows reached out and covered his small body comfortingly.

(flashback end)

Since then, not a day had gone by that Harry hadn't used his magic and his wand. Every week he advanced in all the subjects he so diligently studied, what little theory Harry read that he didn't already understand now made perfect sense when he could work the magic and _feel_ it; every month his magic grew stronger, was quicker to respond, became more deeply ingrained and connected to Harry. Every three months, Harry would go deep into the woods and work himself literally to exhaustion, and each time he woke up stronger for it.

It was a constant battle, one that he was still fighting even now, to not lose himself in the magic. Yet another reason the world generally waited until children were eleven. Using magic regularly would exhaust most, and it could stunt your magical growth permanently. Harry was careful to get into it slowly, but now that it was clear that he benefited greatly from such a style, he couldn't help it.

Harry had joined a football club in London two years ago so as not to neglect his body and health. And to get a second look at muggles. After some years, Harry realized that just as he didn't paint the Wizarding World with the same brush as the Potters, he couldn't judge the majority of the world's population on one week with the Dursleys. It was a good decision, Harry was happy to admit, there were a lot of decent blokes on the team. He did quite well for himself there, and would continue exercises at Hogwarts.

After fifteen more minutes of arguing and haggling, Harry walked out of the store fifty Galleons lighter, and bearing an obsidian Ankh pendent on a strip of leather around his neck. It was expensive, but worth it. After the portkey function was used, the obsidian would hold charms, and later enchantments or wards, quite well. Plus, Harry just really liked it. He was thinking about making it a poison/substance detector.

It was now about a quarter after five, and Harry had plenty of time to do whatever he wanted to. Of course not all the shops in Knocturn were open this early, but some were. Although he was already restraining himself, books would wait, Harry told himself firmly. Books would be last, after he had hit all the book stores in Diagon, then he would come back and go through all the ones here. So he was a nerd. Dare you to say that to his face.

Harry started walking down the street, sweeping through the dark alleys silently, looking for something interesting to look at in an attempt to derail his excitement at finally getting some practical Dark Arts books. His Godfather, the only person on the planet that Harry cared to claim as family, had loved the idea of Harry getting into football and interacting positively with the muggles, and gave Harry access to Grimmauld Place so he could use the Floo to get to practice and games. (it caused some questions when he never had an adult to sign, but Harry hadn't chosen the best area of London to play, and the coaches understood without asking, and let him play) This meant that he had complete, unsupervised access to the House of Black and its library. He had kept from practicing, barely, but had read all the introductory theory, the psychology of it and all that. Getting far into the Dark Arts without going completely insane was a dangerous tightrope balancing act. It took strong will power and an even stronger mind to resist the pull and addiction, which you absolutely _could not_ give into, but at the same time you had to get it out of your system. Purification rituals were important when you got into the complex, truly malicious magic, but at the same time you couldn't become reliant on them. There was a difference, however, between "dark" and "evil". Harry had concentrated mostly on the darker side of Charms, Transfiguration, the core subjects. He was laying off curses until he truly started dueling and battle magic. Yes, he had a general timeline for his magical education. It was completely normal.

Harry stopped when he spotted an armory. Eh, he had time and it looked interesting, so he went in. An old man in a thick leather apron was stacking some kind of chest plates near the back. He looked up as Harry entered and nodded before going back to his work. Harry looked around. There was a half and half split between weapons and then defense against weapons. Swords weren't really his style but he went over anyway and admired the craftsmanship. He already had several knives and daggers, plus his wand which would have a companion by the end of the day, so he left the weapons and walked to the armor section. Ignoring the hard plates and full on battle robes, Harry found himself inspecting the lighter casual stuff. There was everything from gloves, boots, and shin guards to protective vests and cloaks. All in different leathers, dragon hides, and other materials unidentifiable to Harry. The problem with something like that is that Harry would soon out grow it. Better wait a few years before getting a vest. And Harry was happy with his Vans for now. But there was a nice long black leather coat. It wasn't quite trench coat length but came down to below Harry's knees and was too big, but still wearable. It was actually very high quality, and quite stylish. The only reason it was here was all the protection enchantments and hidden pockets. In a few years it would fit him perfectly. Feeling an odd attachment to the jacket Harry bought it and exited the store, never once speaking a word to the smithy.

Still with four hours to spare, Harry was somewhat at a loss as to what to do. He didn't need clothes, as he kept himself well dressed in both the magical and muggle worlds. What was more, more people were by now starting to walk the Alley. Harry quickly gave into his suppressed impulsiveness and walked into the first open store he found.

Stepping back into the alley proper, Harry let out a sigh when he cast a quick "_tempus_" spell and learned it was already approaching 10:00. Now would be the ideal time to put in an appearance at Diagon, and get all of the "required" supplies for the year.

The shop he had entered approximately four hours ago turned out to be, of all things, a music shop. They had all sorts of finely crafted instruments. Harry had gotten completely absorbed in playing around with them, and now he walked out grinning madly inside with a brand new guitar. He would have to find someone to give him lessons.

Two minutes later quick, smooth, confident strides brought Harry out of the shadow of Knocturn and into the cheery bright atmosphere of Diagon Alley. Harry neither blinked nor paused, merely continued on his way. People generally didn't question you, or take much notice at all really, if you acted like you belonged and were doing nothing wrong.

The Alley was practically alive with excitement and wonder. The war was not over; in his heart, Harry knew that, and he suspected that when the fighting started back up again, he would thrive on the chaos and destruction. But another part of him reveled in this, in what the Wizarding World could be. It was this wonder and so much more beyond this. That was what Harry wanted to see, more than anything: Wizarding England joining the Greater Magical World, embracing all forms of magic, creating and discovering and moving forward, without losing the past histories, traditions, and Old Magicks.

Because for so long now, magic was all Harry had. It was everything to him, and he wanted to pay it back. Shaking himself out of it, Harry realized he needed to get a move on. And he knew just where he was going to start, Harry thought as he started moving towards Ollivander's.


	3. Of Wands and Familiars

Ok, I got a PM about pairings and such. Sorry I didn't make this clear before but….this is in no way, shape, or form going to be slash. There will be one lesbian pairing but that's it. Let's just say that as a small society they're very concerned with continuing the lines and leave it at that. Sorry to those of you who like that kind of thing, but no way. Plenty of other stuff out there, seems like most well-written stories out there are slash and Harry/Draco is the biggest pairing on the FF HP fandom, if I'm not mistaken. Nothing against it, but that's just not me. At all. Oh, but for all you….um….slashers out there, I have a question. Why is it that Harry is nearly always the bottom/submissive/wife/baby carrier? Just wondering. But anyway let's hold off relationship/pairing talk till third year, hmm? I will say that Harry is not going to fall madly in love with the first girl he has a relationship with, stay madly in love with her all the way to adulthood, marry her, pop out four mini-Harry's, and live happily ever after. Sorry, but that's not the way it works. Welcome to real life. Well, real life in a made up fantasy story about a made up fantasy world. Whatever, you know what I mean. Besides, Harry has too much ambition. He will eventually marry, but it won't be conventional in the least. I think you'll all be surprised when you realize who it is. And we're talking like 26 years from now in "book" 3, so let's not get too far ahead of ourselves here.

Now before you all throw a hissy fit at how advanced Harry is, I will explain my reasons for this at the end of the chapter. Don't think he's perfect, and don't think for a second he's not gonna work his ass off at school. You think he's some kind of super-wizard now; he's not, but just wait for graduation.

Thanks so much to those who reviewed. They were very helpful. **Heh**, I'll address what you said after the sorting. This chapter is just more shopping and is kinda….iffy. But now, everything is set to go and get the ball rolling! So, story progression in the next chapter people!

Disclaimer: What do you expect to see here? My assertion that I'm really JKR in the body of a male American teenager? Idiots.

**Ch. 3: Of Wands and Familiars**

Entering the Wandmaker's shop Harry took notice of the unnatural hush that seemed to permeate the place, although he felt no silencing ward. The hustle and bustle of the alley could not reach the tranquility and composure of the wand shop. Well worn surfaces that were nonetheless kept impeccably clean and organized, against the seemingly haphazard stacks of wand boxes, tubes, and sheaths in every available nook and cubby gave the look and feel of a heavily experienced master of his trade. Thick rustic windows allowed light to cascade down languidly, reflecting off of the wood and dust in harvest colors; reds, oranges, yellows, and browns swirling around and illuminating every particle in the air like millions of tiny fairies, doing absolutely nothing to dispel the lingering magic heavy in the air from countless Bondings over several centuries.

This was by far the most "magical" place Harry had ever been in, bar Hogwarts, and entering with his senses (all seven of them) fully extended, Harry was as awed as any first year muggleborn.

Harry was brought out of his stupor, and his eyes went from wide and wonder-filled to sharp and clear in an instant, when he felt an extremely subtle presence, calm and poised, prodding at his mind from behind and to the left. He spun around and barely, _barely_, stopped himself from pulling his wand. He was at Ollivander's. If the old man knew he already had a wand, he could either not sell him another, attempt to confiscate the Yew wand, or worst of all, recognize it. There was a chance, as small as it seemed to Harry, that Voldemort's wand had been with him since he was eleven, and that he had bought it from Ollivander himself.

Ollivander raised an enormous eyebrow, impressed and intrigued. Stepping closer to the wary boy, and into the light, Ollivander said, "Interesting. My apologies."

"What, for attempting to use an arcane art to pry into the mind of an eleven year old? No apologies necessary." Harry responded, tone sarcastic and caustic, but still cautious.

"No, child. For getting caught." Ollivander replied in kind unabashedly, waving his hand around dismissively.

Harry's mask dropped for a second in surprise. He found, much to his irritation, that he could only bring himself to be amused.

Mr. Ollivander dropped his wry grin and looked curiously at Harry and commented, "You look like a Potter, son." Harry blinked at that, not at all liking being associated with _them_ before people even knew him. All but his immediate family were dead, but Harry was reasonably sure that he was like no Potter that the wandmaker had ever met before. Appearances could be deceiving. With his wide amber eyes and thick bushy white hair and eyebrows, Ollivander himself looked very much like an owl. However, Harry was pretty sure that he was human, and his animagus was magical. Harry told the man as much.

After having a laugh at the audacity of the child, Ollivander extended his hand with a smile on his old wrinkled face and said, "Very well, young sir, Julius Ollivander at your service."

Harry shook his hand, saying, "Hadrian Potter, twin brother to the Boy Wonder himself, it's an honor to meet you sir. You can call me Harry, if you'd like." This was said with a charming but honest and humble smile. That's the thing about getting in people's good graces. In order to charm the people that matter, you couldn't be fake. You had to bring the right attitudes and opinions to the forefront, but they had to be real, because if they really were people that matter, they would be able to see right through you anyway.

Mr. Ollivander looked at Harry for a moment, and then thought, 'I guess I'll find out later today.' Finally he said, "Well then, let's get down to business, Mr. Potter," here he paused to observe Harry's frown at the name Potter, filing it away, "which is your wand arm?" Harry held up his right arm, and it was immediately set upon by an animated tape measure. It began measuring all sorts of strange distances the purposes of which Harry couldn't divine, if there even were any, while Ollivander flitted around the front room, along the shelves on the stairs, and through the shelves behind the counter pulling down seemingly random boxes, tubes, and the like before coming back and placing them on the counter. "That will do." he told the tape measure. The stupid thing went back to its shelf.

"Now no two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two witches or wizards are exactly alike. The wand chooses the wizard, as I say, and of course you'll never get quite as good results as with your own Bonded wand." Harry nodded, it was odd that Lord Voldemort's wand worked so perfectly for him, although they _had _bonded. Ollivander continued his speech, "I use Phoenix feathers, Unicorn hairs, and Dragon heartstrings as cores primarily, because as a wand maker as opposed to a crafter as I used to be, those three generally react well with a wide range of young untrained magical cores. That's the trouble with Crafting specifically suited wands. It's hard to create a wand that both is so highly personal and will still perform a wide range of the Arts. Even these wands will have certain strengths, but they will also work well in most anything, be it charms, transfiguration, defensive magic….you get the idea." Harry nodded again in agreement, fascinated. Ollivander was delighting in having such an avid listener, and got back on the main point.

"However, when the rarer materials are available I do use them, so there are others amongst these, and then there are older wands that have found their way back to me after the original owner has passed, if we cannot find a match amongst the newer stock."

While he was talking Ollivander had organized the wands he had brought out into groups. "Now, I think I've got a good read on you, and I felt you sensing magically when you came in, so how about we do this somewhat differently, and you can learn a little something?" he proposed. Enraptured, Harry nodded eagerly.

Smiling excitedly, Ollivander opened the first three boxes. "Now, obviously there are literally thousands of wands here, there is no way we could go through every one. Instead, we start with a broad search: a wand; then, we steadily narrow down the potentials based on the reactions you have to previous wands of different kinds." Harry nodded, following closely.

"So to start, we have each extreme. The one on the left is Cypress wood, with the core of a Thestral tail hair, 14 inches. Rigid. Especially suited for Offensive magic, the Dark Arts, and Enchantment. The wand on the right is 10 and a quarter inches, Cherry wood with a Unicorn tail hair core. Good for the lighter charms, and Healing. It will of course perform the wide range of Arts for schooling, but it would be considerably harder to force a curse through this wand. Finally the middle wand is a light Beech wood, Welsh Green heartstring, 12 inches even. This is generally neutral but would work well for large scale projects, such as Warding, and perform fine for everyday magic."

Up until this point Harry had only looked and listened, but now Ollivander beckoned him forward. "Well go on, reach out with your magical senses and _feel_ them. The wood, the core, the magic. The potential in them."

Harry sent his magic out to wrap gently around the Cypress wand, letting his magic swirl around it, run its length, seep into it all in a few seconds. The image of a winged skeletal creature, a Thestral, flashed across his mind and he cold feel the cypress as well, smooth and dry. The magic was cool and pulsing around itself, keeping contained. When Harry touched it he could feel a slight connection, but it wasn't nearly enough. He could tell it just wasn't right. It wasn't _his_. The same could be said for the Cherry wand. He could feel energy and life and rejuvenation when he felt it. It was all fiery passion and tenacious _optimism_. Harry, unfortunately, was not emotional. He was closed off, calculating, and cold. He had known love only in the smallest quantities, and had only the barest connection to this wand. In fact, that he had any connection at all was…curious. Finally, the Beech wand was the best. It felt…free, unrestrained. But however well the magic felt, Harry felt a few sparks, more than the other two, but nothing like how the Yew wand felt. And there was something else. This wand simply was not powerful enough. Harry didn't know how he could tell, but it felt dull in comparison to the other two, and couldn't hold a candle to the Yew wand. Harry told Ollivander what he felt, and the man "hmm'd" thoughtfully. He started lecturing about how they could now narrow the search that much further. Harry was towards the darker side of the spectrum, but needed something that was flexible, as he had had some reaction to all three.

"This is when I say that you're a tricky customer, and prepare for a longer search." Mr. Ollivander told Harry happily, immersed in his work. "Your magic itself is very strong, and all-encompassing. You have hardly any restrictions, and that is very rare. Your wand, therefore, needs to be just as unique. Here, try this." Harry was handed an Ash wand, that Harry was surprised to find he could identify as containing a Dragon heartstring core after sensing the wand magically.

"Yes, the more you practice, the better you get until it becomes innate. For someone like me, for instance, just entering a room I can tell you who has how many wands, what they're made out of, and even where they are kept."

Harry kept himself from jerking up or gasping, but tensed and looked up at him.

"Yes," Ollivander continued on, "but that takes years developing the skill and an intimate knowledge of wand components, of course."

Harry forced himself to keep his breathing even and calm his pounding heartbeat. It seemed either Ollivander was going to say nothing or didn't feel his wand for whatever reason. He hadn't looked at Harry with that knowing look, so maybe somehow he was still in the clear.

Half an hour later they found it. The pile of tried and denied wands was growing ever higher and looming over Harry serving to make him painfully aware that this was not normal. Four customers had come in while they searched, and all had found their wands in less than ten minutes and left. Harry supposed that it wasn't terrible, as the Dark Lord's wand, which Harry had identified as containing a Phoenix feather twenty minutes ago, worked seemingly perfectly for him, but Harry was really looking forward to getting his own that chose him. Just then Ollivander came back with a peculiar look on his face. "I wonder…" he said, carefully lifting the lid from the box.

"An unusual combination. But then again, you're not exactly normal." he chuckled, and Harry joined him somewhat sardonically. "Holly and Phoenix feather, 11 inches, nice and supple. Like I said, an odd combination, but for the person that this wand chose, it would work very well for just about anything that wizard put his mind to." Ollivander ghosted his fingers along the length of dark reddish-brown wood reverently before holding it out solemnly, clearly expecting something.

As soon as Harry wrapped his hand comfortably around the handle, his world exploded in an endless cascade of color and power. A supernatural wind picked up, lifting the fringe of his hair, and making his robes flap out behind him, all of it stemming from his right hand. Harry was so completely unprepared for the influx of magic as he and his wand Bonded, that he became lost to the world. He therefore didn't see how his aura flared, giving Ollivander a taste of his true potential, or how both the reflected light and the shadows were drawn around his regal form, coalescing in a truly mesmerizing sight before it died down. Composure washed away as surely as the sea would wash away a lone piece of driftwood, Harry stared at the wand held loosely in his hand in awe and affection. That was like nothing he had ever felt before; not even when he first picked up the Yew wand, was there a reaction like that.

"Yes," Ollivander spoke quietly, not interrupting this sacred moment. He was staring at Harry piercingly, so intently that Harry could almost physically feel his gaze. "That is certainly your wand, Mr. Potter. It might interest you to know that that wand is both one of the most powerful in my possession, and one of the finest I have ever made. The feather is from the tail of a Fire Phoenix, the familiar of one Albus Dumbledore." Harry's head snapped up, not expecting that at all. He would wonder at getting something from a fire element, but he would not even entertain the thought that his wand was anything but perfectly suited to him. "The Phoenix gave another feather, just one other. It is most curious that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother left my hands about fifty years ago, and went on to become as notorious as its wielder, a man we fear to speak the name of even today."

Harry actually sucked in a breath at that. "You mean, you-?"

"Sold You-Know-Who his wand? Yes. Yes, 13 and a half inches. Yew. Very powerful indeed. I think it's safe to say that we can expect great things from you, Harry Potter, even if the world casts its eyes in the wrong direction for the moment. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great."

Harry didn't know what to make of this very intense speech, still dazed from his Bonding, and nodded his thanks and paid the man, turning to go. At the door he turned back to the wand maker, hesitating. The man had been very accommodating thus far. "Mr. Ollivander?" he asked softly, "What was his name?"

Ollivander looked Harry in the eyes for just a second before turning to put away the pile of wands. "His name was Tom. Tom Riddle."

-x.**X**.x-

Harry stepped into the most popular bookstore, Flourish and Blott's, and looked around at his surroundings. His face almost twisted itself into a grimace as he realized that his family was here with the Weasleys, and that they had actually noticed him. James and Casey just turned away, not caring at all, and Lily followed a minute later after shooting him a curious and suspicious glance, most likely wondering how he had done his shopping himself.

Grabbing a feather-light bottomless bag, Harry followed their example and put them out of his mind, turning to his shopping. He strode right past the first year package. He already owned all of those and they were long since thoroughly read and annotated. He was here on the final leg of his shopping, as books always took the longest with Harry. Flourish and Blott's was just the first stop, looking for the next level text books for all the core subjects as well as anything interesting that caught his eye.

Cruising through the text book section, Harry grabbed O.W.L. level Charms, Transfiguration, Defense, and Ancient Runes. Defense included books from the past few years as well, since the Professor changed every year. Charms was Harry's best and favorite subject, he was a complete natural; Transfiguration was close because Harry was immensely skilled and creative, and the gap was more than made up for by his absolute determination to beat James in his best subject. Along with those he collected 4th year material on Potions and Herbology, having studied them specifically in relation to one another, as well as O.W.L. prep guides.

Now that those were out of the way, Harry began moving through the shelves, in search of anything interesting. A book on basic first aid was added to the bag along with a pamphlet of exercises designed to build up magical reserves and channels for Healing purposes. Harry always got these little magical exercise books whenever possible and had been practicing religiously for years. His magic should be in optimal condition and much better suited for every day practical use than any other lower year at Hogwarts. True Healing magic required finesse and control, the level of which was beyond Harry at this point. However, closing small cuts and reducing swelling should be perfectly manageable. Realizing that the shop proprietor was watching him with raised eyebrows, Harry decided to hurry up and finish, and move on to the next shop.

Heading to the Runes: Study and Practical section, Harry found a few on Ancient Egyptian and Sumerian. The Potter and Black collections on Runes, while vast, were focused on the more native Celts and Druids. On the way to the Runes section, then to the counter, Harry added a book on Gaelic curses from Foreign Arts, a set on Spell Modification, and the beginner book on Creation. _Simple Animations_, and _The Big Book of Shields _rounded out the Flourish and Blott's run.

After paying the man at the counter and glaring his questions away, Harry finally became aware of the two Marauders watching him, one proudly and the other incredulously; his parents had long since gone. Cursing his inattention when it came to book shopping, Harry made his way over to his godfather with a charming, and for once genuine, smile.

"Sirius." Harry said when he reached them.

"Hey Pup!" He greeted, pulling Harry into a rough hug. Sirius looked good, but then again, when didn't he? He was deeply tanned with long wavy black hair and smiling blue-grey eyes. Tall and broad, Sirius Black was every inch the charismatic playboy. Wearing expensive and fashionable robes in blues and greens, he beamed as he held Harry at arms length to examine him.

"Got enough books there, eh, Harry?"

Harry scoffed, "I'm only getting started here, you stupid lion."

"Nerd."

"Man Whore."

"Damn straight." Harry and Sirius shared a fist bump. "You know you're going to follow in my footsteps, pup. No girl at Hogwarts will be safe!" He appeared absolutely thrilled at the very idea and proclaimed the last part a little too loudly. Passing shoppers turned to look at the three. Sirius just smiled dazzlingly at the women and ignored the men. The witches rolled their eyes and blushed. Madam Bones, recognizable by her monocle and authoritative air, recognized Sirius and saw he was gazing proudly at a young boy. One look at the young man told her all she needed to know and she told her niece, "You watch out for that boy, Susan."

"Jeez Padfoot, you're here for five minutes and already stunting my social life."

Sirius laughed. "It's so good to see you, Harry."

"It's good to see you too, Padfoot." And it was. Almost always, Harry felt completely and utterly alone in the world, but when Sirius was here, it was….nice. Almost normal. He had an adult he felt safe with, whom he knew cared about him and would look out for his best interests. These times were fleeting, and so Harry savored every moment, even though being with Sirius almost always ended with them having lots of fun they probably weren't supposed to and narrowly avoiding trouble. It was like spending a week in Hawaii before having to return to where you came from and face all the crap that had piled up in your absence.

Remus had been standing there watching the two banter. He was fidgety and awkward. Harry sighed. This was the 'Oh, there's another brother?' reaction. He had obviously seen Harry before and knew who he was, but had apparently just realized that he had never actually spoken to him before, and probably just learned that his name was Harry as well. Ah, see now, there's the guilt in his eyes. Sirius was the only adult Harry trusted, and Sirius was the only adult Harry ever would trust.

Sirius noticed Remus' silence and hesitance and raised an eyebrow at him. Harry coughed, breaking the pause, and said with no trace of warmth, "I don't believe we've been introduced. Harry Potter, you may call me Hadrian." Remus flinched but nodded quickly and went to speak, looking apologetic.

"Remus Lupin, but you can call me Moony. Look, Hadrian, I-um…well, I-"

"I understand." Harry said emotionlessly. Lupin sighed and nodded, obviously this would take time. He tried his best to avoid catching Sirius' eye, who after comprehending what was going on was now scowling at Remus disappointedly. "I would be honored if you would allow me to buy you a late birthday gift, seeing as I've missed them all."

Harry was surprised but didn't show it and nodded slowly. Remus smiled. "Great." Turning back to Sirius, Harry's face regained some emotion. "By the way, thanks again for the broom and the books, but the other stuff, uh, I really have no idea what to say."

This year on his birthday, Sirius had sent a finely made broom of Caribbean Rosewood that was hand crafted by one of the island's artisans, several books detailing how to make islandy things such as a kayak or a small hut, a local seafood meal that was absolutely delicious, and a box. In this box was what Sirius called an "island care package" so that Harry could "soak in the whole island experience". Harry had no idea what to make of it. There were fifteen large and bright feathers, each different, a Tupperware box filled with sand and a small intricate shell, four different inkwells, a whole coconut, and something Harry had dubbed the "thingy-ma-jig", which was the only thing that Harry was completely sure was magical.

Sirius grinned smugly. "Couldn't figure it out, eh?" he gloated. Harry rolled his eyes and replied, "No, I couldn't. Should've just tossed the whole thing."

"No, you shouldn't. It's important. I'll show you later." Sirius replied and winked. "Now, the rest of your books can wait. Moony's right, it's present time!" He began steering Harry down the alley, Remus following along.

"You really don't need to, you already got me three very nice gifts." Harry protested.

"And how many did you get in all this year, pup?" Sirius pressed on, looking straight at Remus over Harry's head.

Harry sighed then quietly answered, "Three." Remus flinched again.

"Exactly." Sirius said seriously, stopping in front of the Magical Menagerie. "Besides, you need this."

The Menagerie was one of those perpetually crowded, fast-paced businesses. The cacophony of squawks, squeaks, and squeals was overwhelming as the three walked the aisles, peering into random cages and tanks. There were all sorts of animals, magical or otherwise, everywhere. Staring out from behind glass, flying around near the ceiling, or scurrying under the shelves nearly causing the assistant to go spare trying to catch them. They had cats of all colors and sizes and with any number of tails. There were birds perching everywhere, some the source of the squawking, others commenting on the customers' sense of style. It was all very interesting, but nothing that Harry wanted to deal with to be perfectly honest. Finally, when a raven-haired family left, the three found themselves in the corner and surrounded by owls.

"Well, see any you like?" Remus asked, Sirius nodding along encouragingly. Harry looked around. There were a couple of very nice birds, but none that Harry really felt a connection to. Well, an unimportant mail carrier bird it was, then. He was about to pick one of the better looking ones when from up above came a sharp, almost reprimanding hoot. There, perched on top of the cage she was undoubtedly meant to be inside of, was a breathtakingly beautiful medium sized snowy owl with large amber eyes, similar actually to Ollivander's but at the same time completely different. She was pure white except for a light grey coloring coming down the sides of her neck to form a v-pattern on her chest, and a similar pattern near the tips of her wings and on her tail feathers. Despite being young, she blatantly commanded respect as she had a small radius of space around her where the other owls backed off, and she was staring right at Harry in the eyes. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was to be his companion, and faintly wondered how he had walked so normally without this magnificent avian on his shoulder. Frowning slightly at the absurdity of that thought, Harry smoothly offered her his arm. Gliding down majestically, she alighted on the proffered arm as though it was the most natural thing in the world. After nuzzling the side of his face affectionately, she hopped up onto his shoulder in such a way so as to say, "ok, let's go." Harry nodded and turned to the two Marauders.

"Okaaaaaaay…" Sirius drawled. They were looking at him strangely. Harry chose to say nothing and started walking to the register. Remus brought up all the supplies he would need, as he was buying them and Sirius was getting the owl.

A harried employee saw them waiting and hurried over. "Good afternoon, sirs, I hope you found everything ok. Oh! You're getting her? Oh, thank Merlin." he breathed out, relieved. Harry silkily raised an eyebrow while Hedwig, as he had decided her name was, cocked her head imperiously. The effect was actually quite unnerving to the employee, Sirius, and Remus.

"Oh?" Harry inquired dangerously, "And why is that, exactly?"

"W-well you see sir, that bird has been downright unsociable, glaring and snapping at anyone who comes near her. Won't you be needing a cage as well?" he asked, trying to change the subject, and avert the attention of the creepy pair who were quite a striking contrast in the dark shop. With Harry's dark clothes and hair he blended into the darkness except for his face and hands while Hedwig seemed to exude her own light.

"No." they said/hooted and glared at the man. Harry blinked and shook his head, continuing, "That won't be necessary."

Done paying the man, Sirius decided to break the strange scene. "Well all-righty then, let's go."

After leaving the Magical Menagerie, they walked around some more, Hedwig drawing only a few odd looks, and Remus bought Harry a nice leather wrist holster for his wand. Harry was going to hold off on buying holsters until he started dueling, but decided it would be safer to keep the Yew wand in one after all, and he didn't want to be rude. Sirius then convinced Harry to buy the rest of his books another day, and soon they all disappeared back to Grimmauld Place for dinner and to catch up. Plus, Sirius had been very mysterious about one last gift that had to be given at the Black house, and Harry was very curious about it.

**A/N: **Hadrian is his full name; it will be used for official things. Casey's full name is Cassius. It was a perfect compromise between James' pureblood family and Lily's distain for stuffy outdated names.

All of my Ollivanders (there are two per continent; one a Maker, one a Crafter) have Roman names

Ollivander didn't feel Harry's wand because he is in his store, surrounded by thousands of signatures. He needs to be able to touch them in there. True, that particular one might stick out to him, but unbeknownst to Harry, he is performing a kind of accidental shadow magic to hide it. But we'll learn more about that in a few years.

As to his power and knowledge, he got a wand at six. He already at that point had a slight grounding in theory and grew up in the magical world. He's had his wand for five years and covered five years material in SOME subjects. The reason he moved at that pace was because of how young he was. It would not take my Harry five years starting at eleven to get there, he's a prodigy. Also, he had a very gifted teacher at Hogwarts when they went as you'll find out later.

HA! I said familiar and you thought snake, didn't ya? I decided not yet on that, because of future plans I have. But Harry is aware of his Parsel ability. I just couldn't leave Hedwig out though; that was the death that most upset me in canon out of all of them.

Alright, that's all done now, we can move on! Hogwarts next chapter. Things should start getting interesting around chapter six.

Next chapter starts with Sept. 1st, but you'll find out what Sirius' present was.

Till next week.


	4. The Other Potter

Hey everybody. Just a few things that are unimportant so feel free to skip straight to the chapter.

Let's see… ah, yes, I'm changing the rating now. Just to be safe and so no one can say I didn't warn them earlier. To be clear, this includes (once he is older) occasional language, violence and some character death, and perpetual sexual content. You have been warned. Waaaaaay in advance.

And oh yes, Shadow Magic. Haha, I don't what to overwhelm or drive anyone off by throwing all this stuff at you at once like shadow magic, blood magic, necromancy and soul magic, dream magic, etc. and I don't want to do them poorly, but they will eventually pop up. A lot of people, it seems, see these things as ridiculous and unrealistic (while they're reading a story about magic) and run when they see them. Understandable, as most times Harry just inherits a library with lost and forbidden knowledge and is suddenly a shadow mage or blood mage or whatever, and the reader has no idea what that means beyond a few spells and maybe an alternative mode of transport. I will not do that.

However, these will eventually come into play and I want readers prepared for it, so am introducing the ideas slowly, as part of how a magical-raised person thinks differently to a muggle-raised person. So if it seems I'm making more out of something, but don't expand on it, that's why. Perhaps it's part of some bigger overlapping plot. This is also in concern of the way magic works, how witches and wizards use it, etc. Today, slight references to arcane arts. Tomorrow, the world! But seriously, think about it. There has been a wizarding society for thousands of years, firmly established, and they've been through their own renaissances and all kinds of things. You mean to tell me that thousands of years of magical study and development has yielded only nine general branches of magic? Sixteen if you count the vague mentions of Alchemy, Warding, the Dark Arts, dueling, rituals, healing, and flying? Nuh-uh, I don't think so. The "average" wizard always pissed me off in canon. I mean, ok, the base population all AT LEAST spent seven years at Hogwarts. That's nearly a decade with ten months out of the year devoted to studying magic and being pushed by the professors, and all they come out with is a handful of spells and some basic theory? It doesn't take years to learn how to add. It takes years to learn how to do basic calculations, solve logarithms and fractions and functions, learn geometry, trigonometry, calculus, the whole shebang. So do you think it should take years to learn how to do a "stupefy" and "protego"? I have a list people, of 138 branches of magic, although some could be said to be specific parts of a broader one. Maybe I should publish that? Still, Harry won't master every single one, but he will be proficient with a wide range of skills.

Thanks to my reviewers and I own nothing.

**Ch. 4: The Other Potter**

Harry stood on Platform 9 ¾ looking around at all the families milling around saying last minute goodbyes. He didn't know what to feel watching all those families like this, and so didn't think of it at all, instead he studiously began examining those who looked to be first years.

His family wasn't here yet, as they were coming with the Weasleys, and that was always a guaranteed last minute madhouse rush. The Potters and Weasleys were somewhat recent acquaintances, since Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been quite a bit before their time, being 13 and 14 years older respectively. They had met in the Order before Voldemort's fall, and had arranged play dates for Casey and Ron once they had turned five or so, and just gotten closer from there on. In fact, most of the ones here this early were the pureblood families and the ones who just had to drop their children off early for whatever reason. There truly weren't that many major Houses in pureblood society, but there were many, many, minor families and those with newly attained pureblood status. The Potters themselves were one of the older families, but didn't wield as much influence as some of the others. The Blacks were such a family, slightly older and with Noble status, the Blacks were probably the most prominent family in England, if not Europe. Which made Sirius' last gift to Harry all the more unbelievable, he thought as he touched the ring on his left hand. It was a small but exquisite black onyx stone on a charcoal grey band of some magical precious metal Harry didn't know about. It was set with cold silver casing holding the Black crest, a gleaming dagger with a now extinct breed of dragon wrapped around it in front of a shield with the motto 'Toujours Pur'. It was the heir ring, and it meant the world to Harry.

(flashback)

"You know, pup, you are the closest thing to family to me, discounting my cousins."

They were at Grimmauld Place, relaxing in the study late the night Sirius had returned to England. Remus had left, having to be up early the next morning, and there was a very comfortable relaxed silence pervading the room. They were both full from a wonderful meal, the silence reaching past the physical and resting their minds and bodies as well.

Harry looked up at Sirius' uncharacteristically serious and genuinely emotional tone. He was staring at Harry and looked to be sad but happy at the same time, confusing Harry.

"I know, Sirius, and I can't tell you how grateful I am. What's this about exactly?" Harry said slowly, cautiously. Sirius gave a barking laugh at Harry's careful approach.

"I have one final gift, Harry. One I've been waiting to give you since the moment you were born. The time is definitely right, now." Reaching into a drawer under his desk, Sirius pulled out a small velvet cushion with a ring wedged into it, bearing the Black family crest. Harry looked up at the Lord Black quickly. "Sirius….I….this…."

To those who knew him well enough (a small group consisting of Sirius and, inexplicably, Hedwig) they could see and hear how floored Harry was by this.

"This is the heir ring, I couldn't possibly wear this. I mean I physically cannot put it on. And besides, this is…is too much."

Sirius shook his head firmly and slid the ring onto his finger. With a flash, it resized to fit perfectly and Harry felt something settle over him. A sense of belonging perhaps? Of familial bond?

"Harry, it is wrong what your family has done to you. If this were the Muggle world, it would be criminal. I doubt I will ever have any children, and even if I do, you are now my heir. You've been a bright spot in my life when everything was falling apart around me, and I love you like a son. Hell, the house, the portraits, the family magic, even _my mother_ loves you. I've declared you my heir legally. Your grandmother Dorea was a Black, and as such you have a strong enough blood connection that since I've chosen you as my heir, you can surpass Narcissa's son. So, the adoption, as it were, would be almost entirely magical in nature. You have the ring, and slowly the magic melds so that you accept it and it accepts you. By the time you're legal, we'll be all set to do the ritual. In the eyes of Magic, you will be just as much my son, if not more so, than you are James'."

Looking up from where he had been staring at the ring, Harry, for one of the few times since he'd closed himself off (as in count-on-one-hand number of times), stepped forward and initiated a hug. Sirius hugged him back for all he was worth.

(end)

Sirius had put off returning to the Caribbean until that morning, so as to stay with Harry and see him off, but had to run once he'd said his goodbyes. That was fine with Harry. What with the ring, the thoughtful decision to take him to Kings Cross, and the heartfelt goodbye, Harry wasn't sure he could take much more. He was touched, plain and simple, and didn't know how to deal with it. Deciding to find an empty compartment and keep it that way, so no one would see him leave, Harry stepped forward.

And immediately stepped back when he sensed something about to collide with his face. It was a cage, holding an imperious looking eagle-owl, perched atop top-quality luggage that a young blonde haired boy was pushing straight through the crowd, heedless of people's indignant yells and cries of surprise.

"Well, then, _move_, peasant." Came a smooth but arrogant voice. It seemed the gelled entitle terror that was the Malfoy heir had arrived. Cursing, he swerved to avoid a little girl no older than three, and swiped Harry in the side, tearing his black robes right along the abs. The slight pause, however, was enough for the elder Malfoy to catch up to his son.

"Draco, _stop_." he hissed, catching the boys shoulder in a fierce grip. It looked like he had failed to teach the boy the "proper" way to act superior in public, without crossing the line. He turned to examine Harry, and determine whether or not he was worthy of his apologies. Harry's face was impassive looking back at him, apart from slightly tilted lips and an eyebrow raised in such a way so as to imply that said apologies had better be imminent, and that that fact amused Harry greatly. Lucius quickly took stock of the boy's well made tailored robes, blank expression, and the ring on his finger, although he didn't see which crest it held.

By this time, Narcissa had come up to the three, looking on the scene curiously. Harry hardly controlled his blush, although he felt no shame at that. She was absolutely gorgeous, a stone cold fox. Her shimmering blonde hair fell freely, blending in with the light blue robe she was wearing. Even in her mid-late thirties, to say nothing of how slowly witches and wizards aged physically, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black was perfection, easily more stunningly beautiful than any veela. She was also more interesting than the other two. Nothing gave away on her face, but something Harry didn't understand definitely sparked in her eyes, a clear white-blue so much like a snowflake rather than the usual grey-blue of Blacks.

"Please forgive my son, his manners seem to be somewhat lacking, Mr…..?"

Harry waved his right hand airily, now thoroughly enjoying himself. "No forgiveness necessary, Lord Malfoy, accidents and all that. You may call me Hadrian." Harry smirked. Permitting the use of a formal first name prevented the family from finding out he was a Potter just yet, after all it was a courtesy, and could be seen as a token of good faith, Harry holding no ill will against the family. Also, Hadrian was so obviously an old family name it would just increase their curiosity. Add that to the fact that Harry knew who they were. Of course, they could just come out and ask bluntly, but it'd be a cold day in hell that would happen. Propriety and subtlety and all that.

Breaking the stare, a quick movement relocated Harry's wand from his sleeve to his hand almost too fast to see, startling the Malfoys. Ignoring their alarm, Harry ran the tip along the tear, murmuring "Texo" as he did so. The robe and shallow scratch underneath it easily knitted back together and Harry put away his wand, ready to leave. That was something Harry had begun doing before he'd learned that he probably shouldn't be able to, layering simple effect spells (of which there were dozens in the Latin-based Roman tradition) to effect multiple mediums. There was a spell to close cuts in his Healing book, but this was easier. And it would make learning how to pool and release multiple spells simultaneously once he learned silent casting immeasurably simpler. Also, base spells with result depending largely on intent was largely a pillar of Transfiguration; one of a thousand examples of how all magic was in some way connected. "If you'll excuse me, I must find a compartment while I still can. Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy." He nodded his head towards Lucius and took a step closer to Narcissa. A delighted mischievous smile curved full red lips at his boldness, and Harry blushed again as she nearly single handedly finished out his puberty for him. She held out her hand to him, her left, Harry noted. Sly. But not to forget, she is a Black after all. Harry took the butter-soft hand in his own and brushed his lips over her knuckles, shooting her a smile. She spoke for the first time in a musical voice, not letting go of his hand.

"You are a very interesting young man, Hadrian, so forgive my curiosity." With that she turned his hand over and looked at the ring. Gasping, she looked into his eyes, curiosity clearly stronger than ever. That was his cue. Stealing a second, somewhat firmer, kiss to her knuckles, Harry nodded and slipped into the crowd quite effectively disappearing. Her beauty, Harry mused, could be, and was, used as a weapon when she wanted something.

Boarding the train with his luggage shrunk, feather-light, and in his pocket, Harry found a compartment near the middle of the train. He locked it with a simple yet powerful "Colloprtus", silenced and obscured it, and weaved a Notice-Me-Not about the door. It was secure; he wouldn't even be able to hear anyone knocking. Settling down to wait for the train to begin moving, as he wanted to be somewhere around Manchester when he used the portkey, Harry brought out _The Wandmaker's Catalogue of Conductive Woods_ and immediately became absorbed in it, not even glancing up when his family arrived to the obvious commotion outside the window.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry landed in an out of the way corner of the Hogsmeade train station, the Ankh pendent cooling ever so slightly under his shirt. Harry smiled, it was a complete success. The warm evening air augmented the feeling of success and of freedom. The sun was not yet set, but on its way. There was a gentle breeze that picked up every few minutes, blowing the warm air enticingly towards the castle looming in the distance. Heading straight past the open gates, Harry took a round about way on to the grounds. He navigated his way through the fringe of the forest, where the trees were far apart and afforded plenty of light. He met nothing that was not benign, and soon was making his way steadily across the lawn and up a low hill that would lead to a bridge across a ravine and eventually to a courtyard under the clock tower, and into the castle proper.

As he walked he let himself bask in the feeling of being at Hogwarts. The weight lifted off of his shoulders, the endless twists and turns and unused areas, the comforting thrum of the wards. He closed his eyes a moment and stood soaking in the raw, neutral, _pure_ magic of the castle. It was neither Light nor Dark, and yet it was both. It was all-encompassing balance. It was refreshing.

Reaching the castle, Harry ran through a quick list of where he had to go. First, the kitchens. He needed to reassure the house elf staff that he still was in possession of his belongings and would bring them to his dorm with him. No need for the little perfectionists to cause a scene about that, potentially prompting an investigation of the transport from train to castle. They might realize that he registered as arriving several hours earlier than said train. After that, it was to the caretaker's office. He would be out and about on this day, and luckily there would be no magical protections to stop him from erasing himself from the self-updating items-students-weren't-supposed-to-have list. Like a broom, portkey, or second wand. Luckily, this would only be a problem this year. That would take awhile. Finally he had a trip to the owlery to make, to see Hedwig. Maybe if he had time afterwards, he could go upstairs for a visit before the Sorting.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Making his way through the hallways three hours later, Harry cut through a portrait covered staircase to arrive at the central hall near the kitchens. Turning a sharp right, Harry passed quickly through the Entrance Hall to the grand staircase before anyone could come along and spot him. Idly making a note to learn the standard disillusionment charm as soon as possible, he quickly made his way up to the sixth floor before moving off the staircase down a carpeted and heavily portrait-ed hall. About five minutes and a right, right, left, up three steps, left, up another seven, right later, Harry came to a tightly spiraling staircase with no rail or wall. He was now in an extremely out-of-the-way corner of the castle at the base of one of the many spires that no one actually goes in. Harry was very well acquainted with Hogwarts indeed, and had traveled this route many times.

Climbing the stairs, Harry thought about his knowledge of the castle, and how it would grow now that he was living here full-time. He knew about the map, of course. Supposedly no one knew where it was at present. That was ok though, Harry would rather create his own eventually. For one, it would be interesting to learn the magic and process involved. Two, he could protect it better. Three, it would inspire him to explore further and more intently than he otherwise would, finding more hidden passages and rooms. And besides, he was quite sure the Marauders hadn't discovered all of the castle's secrets. They were almost sure to have an incomplete knowledge of the sprawling labyrinth of the dungeons and below, for one.

Having arrived at the top to face a plain wooden door without a handle, Harry pushed a small amount of magic into his hand before running a finger along a small smooth indent in the stone wall to his right. Recognizing his signature, the door swung open. It was a bare room, with clean wooden floors and large windows at every point of the compass, except for an armchair and table. The room was half cast in shadow from the setting sun, and it made for an odd effect.

Already waiting for him in the shadows and looking out of the west facing window was Harry's teacher. The one who had helped him when she had first come across him trying to perform a switching spell when he was seven. She had taken to explaining magical theory so clearly and simplistically, and passing on little tricks you can't learn from a book, increasing his progress by leaps and bounds. It had taken a long while before she would speak normally to him, and slightly longer for Harry to open up and listen, but when they did it was an ideal arrangement. Harry found a veritable treasure trove of knowledge and teaching flair, and she found a remarkably adept student willing to listen and learn anything she was willing to pass on. And it was no wonder.

"Hello, Helena."

The ancient ethereal spectre turned to face him, smiling slightly. "Good evening Harry, I see everything worked out as you'd hoped. I suspect Salazar and my mother will be fighting over you tonight."

Harry chuckled, "I really have no need to plot and scheme at this point. I'm more concerned with learning all that I can. Actually, that is part of the plan so who knows. I think I'll just sit back and let the hat do what it will. Although Ravenclaw would definitely be…quieter for me."

The two turned to watch silently as the sun finally disappeared over the distant rolling hills. The train would be here momentarily, and that meant it was time to migrate downstairs.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry slipped smoothly from the shadows next to a tall dark boy with neatly styled hair as he had been doing for years. He was simply there one second. No one noticed the actual entrance. Now, however, Harry was very much aware of the boy shooting him sideways glances, measuring and curious, trying to be discreet. Harry pretended not to notice, absently wondering the reasons behind the glances, and in turn surveyed those that would become his year mates. Surprisingly, they were actually a fairly impressive group overall. There was, of course, those who would be average and those below even that, although they had potential. The chubby nervous looking boy had quite a bit of power inside, Harry noted, but the connectivity was all wrong. But over all there was lots of potential.

McGonagall came back and blinked at him. Hmm, she must get an early start at trying to memorize them all. She gave her head a little shake and beckoned them to form a line and follow her into the Great Hall. Like every time he saw Hogwarts, Harry sighed and allowed himself some contentment in his mind as he looked at the domed ceiling, floating candles, and elegant stained glass arched windows. Outside he remained impassive with a calm and collected air about him.

Walking up between the tables nearly all of the new first years were visibly nervous and scared. The Malfoy heir walked with a superior pompous air, the tall-Italian-and-staring managed to keep calm and smooth. Harry himself strode as always, impressive and genuine. Once the applause died down Professor McGonagall took her scroll and began reading off names alphabetically. (blah blah blah, yada yada yada, For I'm a Thinking Cap!)

"Abbott, Hannah."

A cute brown haired girl with a red face and pigtails ran up to the stool. Cute. Positive. A nice person. Hufflepuff. With an internal sigh Harry decided, all the nice people would go to Hufflepuff, the self-righteous arses would be lions, and all the manipulative little bastards would be split up between the remaining two houses. "HUFFLEPUFF!" See.

"Bones, Susan."

A redhead this time who had clapped enthusiastically for the Abbott girl, as only a best friend does. She was already starting to show curves and looked like a hard worker. She also had a very decent amount of power. "HUFFLEPUFF."

"Boot, Terrance."

A boy of about medium height and build and looked somewhat shy moved up to the stool. After about 30 seconds he became the first Ravenclaw.

"Brocklehurst, Amanda."

This girl was short but with a cheery smile. She looked to be debating the merits of different houses with the hat. "RAVENCLAW!"

And on it went.

"Brown, Lavender."

Gryffindor.

"Bulstrode, Millicent."

Slytherin.

"Corner, Michael."

Ravenclaw.

"Crabbe, Vincent."

Slytherin.

"Davis, Tracey."

Slytherin.

"Entwhistle, Kevin."

Ravenclaw.

"Finch-Fletchy, Justin."

Hufflepuff.

"Finnegan, Seamus."

Gryffindor.

"Goldstein, Anthony."

Ravenclaw.

"Goyle, Gregory."

Slytherin.

"Granger, Hermione."

Gryffindor.

"Greengrass, Daphne."

Slytherin.

"Hopkins, Wayne."

Hufflepuff.

"Jones, Megan."

Hufflepuff.

"Li, Su."

Ravenclaw.

"Longbottom, Neville."

Gryffindor.

"MacDougal, Morag."

Ravenclaw.

"Macmillan, Ernest."

Hufflepuff.

"Malfoy, Draco."

Slytherin.

"Midgen, Eloise."

Hufflepuff.

"Moon, Nora."

Slytherin.

"Nott, Theodore."

Slytherin.

"Parkinson, Pansy."

Slytherin.

"Patil, Padma."

Ravenclaw.

"Patil, Parvati."

Gryffindor.

"Perks, Sally-Anne."

Hufflepuff.

"Potter, Cassius."

Casey all but strutted to the stool, the eyes of the entire school on his every move as whispering broke out. After about a minute or so Casey joined Gryffindor, just as he was supposed to. The lions went wild after getting the Boy Who Lived in their house and it took a good 5 minutes to get them to stop. Now it was about to be Harry's turn. He took a deep breath and ruthlessly suppressed all anxiety with his Occlumency. This would, after all, be a first impression.

"Potter, Hadrian."

Silence, Harry noted, could be quite loud. Not that it lasted long. Students and staff alike looked in confusion, wondering who this _other_ Potter could be and why they had never heard of him before. Harry ignored them and glided to the stool for his turn to be placed for the rest of his years here. Sitting down gracefully but straight-backed, the hat was dropped over Harry's face.

"**Well, now, what do we have here? The other Potter, the one the ghosts and paintings won't stop going on about?"**

"I don't know anything about that, Mr. Hat, but I do know the Grey Lady very well so I suppose…"

"**Of course it's you, boy, that was just theatrics. Now, if I'm to sort you I'll need access to your mind. This can be done willingly or not but one way is infinitely more painful for you than the other."**

"Everything is confidential?" Harry knew he probably had no chance against the Hat, but he would damn sure try.

"**Of course."**

"Right." Grudgingly, Harry let the hat in, but didn't lower his shields.

"**Very interesting mind you have here Mr. Potter."**

"Thanks."

"**You have many secrets, and almost as many plans. Very ambitious of you. And you don't shy away from using Dark magic. Almost a shoe-in for Slytherin, some would say."**

"And as the consummate professional here, what would _you_ say?"

"**Hmm, a student who actually lets me do my job, refreshing. Well, Mr. Potter you know as well as I that the Badgers and Lions are out for you, all that remains is to decide whether you're better suited to Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Or, rather, which house is better suited to **_**you**_**."**

"I cannot say better than you."

"**Indeed you cannot. Well, in any case, this should be interesting to watch for the nature vs. nurture argument."**

"Wha-?"

"**RAVENCLAW!"**

The Ravenclaw table clapped just about the same as it did for any new student, still not entirely sure about Harry's last name. Harry sat down next to the cute Indian girl who also had a twin in Gryffindor, Padma, with a small polite smile and a nod, before turning to watch the rest of the sorting before he could see the girl blush a bit.

"Smith, Zacharias."

Hufflepuff.

"Thomas, Dean."

Gryffindor.

"Turpin, Lisa."

Ravenclaw.

"Weasley, Ronald."

Gryffindor.

"Zabini, Blaise."

Ah, so tall, Italian, and staring did have a name. And he was the sole heir to the infamous Madam Zabini. Interesting.

Slytherin.

-.x.**X.**x.-

Harry was mostly silent during the Welcoming Feast. He had greeted and traded basic facts with his fellow first years, and had been cordial and polite, but not exactly friendly. He would keep himself back, be approachable but not entirely so. It was Mandy Brocklehurst who asked. She seemed like a very curious and outgoing girl. Cringeably bubbly.

"So are you related to Casey Potter?" All talking around the two ground to a halt as those nearby listened in. Harry stared at her for a few moments to convey that this was not a safe topic, and began speaking in a calm voice, "Yes, he is my…brother."

Some were put off by his slow, deliberate way of speaking. Mandy was not. "What's he like? Is he, like, super powerful? Does he get special training? Ooh I bet he gets it from Professor Dumbledore himself! Are what the books say about him true?" she rapid-fired.

'_Yes, I bet he does get it from Dumbledore._' Blinking both at the stream of consciousness and his disturbing mind, Harry fought to keep any annoyance out of his tone. '_Must NOT come off as the bitter, jealous and ultimately inferior brother!_' He answered in a polite but distinctly cooler voice, "Why don't you watch and judge for yourself? I expect you have preconceived notions and expectations, and I am not the one to endorse Casey's competency." There, that silenced her. She murmured something in reply before engaging Morag MacDougal in a conversation about pets.

After the feast, once all of the older students had left the hall, the last few new Ravenclaw first years had gathered around the four prefects who had been calling them over. They explained how the girls would be going with the two female prefects, while the guy prefects led the boys to the common room. They would be taking different routes, and were supposed to pair up and show each other the way they had taken during the upcoming week. This would both let them get a broader tour of the parts of the castle that were most essential and socialize with their fellow housemates. It worked out nicely that there were five of each gender.

The girls went off with the fifth year prefect Penelope Clearwater and the sixth year Natalia Smith, who was the older sister of the new Hufflepuff Zacharias, and also captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Harry and the others followed Alexander Parker (5th year) and Lucas Vane (6th year) towards the main staircase. It appeared that they were taking the most direct route, and so would most likely beat the girls there.

-.x.**X**.x.-

"Why does almost everyone fail at attempting Wandless magic?" The door knocker asked.

The prefect stared at the bird open-mouthed. The first night was the traditional see-if-the-firsties-can-answer night. As such, it was almost always some simple riddle, not a question of magical theory.

Seeing an opportunity, Harry stepped forward. "Because most try the exact same method of casting they usually would, simply extracting the wand from the equation. In reality, casting anything wandlessly is a completely different means of Channeling. So, it stands to reason that what works there, will not work here. Almost always the individual must find for himself or herself what works and what doesn't; it's intensely personal."

"Impressive." Was all the knocker said before the entrance opened.

The prefect was staring at Harry with wide eyes, mouth working silently. The other first years looked to be terrified at the apparent standard.

Walking into the Ravenclaw common room for the first time, Harry was suitably impressed. He thought he could definitely come to be comfortable here. The focal point of the room seemed to be the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw herself situated between the dormitory entrances, done majestically in a type of white marble, seeming to keep a watch over all of her students as they explored their heritage and delved into the Arts. The wall space looked to be entirely occupied by bookcases sporting spotless sliding glass doors. There seemed to be all kinds of textbooks for the subjects covered at Hogwarts, as well as the best reference books and most useful supplementary material. There didn't seem to be any balconies overhead, like Harry knew there to be in the Gryffindor common room. It was very spacey, with lots of tables and desks surrounded by plush chairs and sofas, and even more small table lamps to use in the dim, relaxed lighting. Enormous bay windows provided a startling panorama of the lake below with the edge of the forest to the left and rolling hills in the distance. Tonight was a crystal clear night, and the stars were out in abundance, blending perfectly with the thin dark drapes and domed ceiling of Ravenclaw Tower, which was charmed like the Great Hall except to always show the night sky with unnatural clarity. It would be an invaluable study aid for Astronomy, and was quite striking regardless.

Parker and Vane led them over to a group of low couches near the dorm stairs, where they said that they would address them all once the girls arrived.

Five minutes later the group of seven arrived. The prefects wore puzzled frowns and the first years nervous looks. At least, until they caught sight of the common room and began to look around in wonder.

When they joined the boys, Clearwater asked, "Hey, what's up with the knocker?"

"No idea. Were any of them able to answer?" Parker asked back.

Clearwater shot him a look. "Of course not. Luckily, Nat read something about it this summer. Wait, you mean one of them was actually able to get it?"

"Yeah, Potter did just fine. More than fine."

"Wow."

Harry gave a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes as all the attention turned to him. This was…new. Sure, everything was normal when he was out on his own, and he was generally well-liked. But he'd never been in the spotlight before, especially if people knew who he was.

At that moment the door opened and Professor Flitwick came in. He was smiling widely as he approached the group. The other prefect that had led the boys up, Vane, quickly stood to address him.

"Professor, sir, the knocker…" he trailed off, not knowing exactly what to ask.

The head of Ravenclaw house nodded understandingly. "Yes, yes, it was supposed to do that. Was anyone able to get it?" he asked looking around excitedly at the gathered first years. The prefect nodded towards Harry, who spoke, "Harry Potter, sir."

"Yes? Excellent, simply marvelous. Well done, Mr. Potter, 10 points to Ravenclaw. I'll explain why the knocker asked such a question momentarily. But first, welcome to Hogwarts!" He beamed at them all, "And congratulations on getting sorted into Ravenclaw!"

It was easy to see why Professor Flitwick was a favorite amongst his students. Here was a man who clearly loved his job, and would make himself available to his students.

"Of course myself, as well as the rest of the faculty and the student leadership, will do all we can to ensure that your time here with us will be both enjoyable and beneficial. We have quite a few, programs shall we say, in Ravenclaw to help out with that. It can all be a bit overwhelming at first, but I'm sure you'll all get the hang of it in no time. But it is quite late, so we'll just cover the basics for now. So, first thing's first: rooms. It is traditional in Ravenclaw to stay two to a room. This gives you a study partner for the group review sessions and other things, whilst still giving a measure of independence. Obviously, this won't work with five people." Everyone had obviously spotted the problem.

"Hence," Flitwick continued, "The difficult question at the door. Mr. Potter, since you are so well grounded in magical theory, then unless you'd rather room with two others, you may have a room to yourself, for at least the first semester. We'll have a review then to make sure you are not falling behind."

Harry nodded once gratefully, hardly containing his excitement. This was just too perfect to have wished for.

"Right then the staircase on the right is the boys'. You'll all be going up to the fourth landing, where you'll be for the rest of your time here. There will be a small hallway with three doors on the left. The first will be Mr. Boot and Mr. Entwhistle. Second door is Mr. Corner and Mr. Goldstein. And then Mr. Potter you're on the end. Ladies, same floor, and first room will be Miss Brocklehurst, Miss Li, and Miss MacDougal. And lastly, Miss Turpin will be with Miss Patil." They all nodded their understanding.

"Excellent. Tomorrow at 6:45 am, Mr. Parker and Miss Clearwater will escort you to the Great Hall, where you will receive your schedules after breakfast. Good night, and again, welcome to Hogwarts."

After Flitwick left and the prefects had headed off to their own dorms, the first years split up at the staircase. The boys made their way to the fourth landing and there was indeed a small dark hallway there. Harry passed his awkwardly silent year mates and entered the last door with a nod. The room was fairly large, as it was meant to be for two people, and Hogwarts had already removed the other set of furniture. There were two medium sized windows offering a slightly higher, but not as breathtaking, view as the common room. The door opened in the corner, and along the wall opposite the windows and nearly all the way down was a full sized bed, a desk, and a dresser with a mirror. Harry shut the door and walked in, examining the empty space. He had every intention of keeping this room to himself for the next seven years, and couldn't wait until he could truly begin rearranging, decorating, and protecting it. But for now, however, there was still a bit he could do. Drawing his wand, Harry set to work.

Levitating the desk over to the corner, Harry cast a duplication charm on it and then set to modifying the second desk. He made the copy so that the main surface went deeper and summoned out the drawers so there was open leg space under it, except for an open shelf that ran the length near the top of the open space. Marking off a small distance he gave it a wall to the right of where his legs would be, so that there was a large drawer under a sliding open surface. Taking one of the discarded drawers, he transfigured a top part for the new desk, with a shelf running the length of the top and small cupboards up the sides. It was basically a computer desk without the computer. Finally, he changed the wood from a light tan to a darker brown oak, and carved a few locking runes on the corners, so the desk wouldn't disappear whenever the transfigurations wore off. He levitated them so that the larger desk was parallel to the window and the smaller was perpendicular, pushed up against the wall to the immediate left of the window. Now, he had a small office space in the corner. He quickly changed the dresser into a stand-alone wardrobe and put it next to the taller desk. Moving the bed closer to the door, Harry decided he was finished for now. He'd do more as he had ideas and learned how. Casting a simple temporary silencing dome around the room, Harry went to get ready for bed.

Fifteen minutes later Harry sat down in the lotus position to do his main evening exercises. This, more than anything else, was the reason he would always have the edge over his peers. Even if they were to learn just as much as he knew, find ways to get just as much power as he held, and train every bit as hard as him, Harry still would be better. It was akin to having a better taken care of engine in the same car. One of the reasons magic was taught slowly at first, and in a particular order, was to build up a person's magical channels. The pathways that magic traveled from your core to whatever outlet. They needed to ease into it slowly so as to not burnout those unused and underdeveloped channels. But even when they reached the point expected, to use a decent amount of magic each day, they were still what was a kind of general all-purpose channel. In other words, it was one singular channel (it helped to visualize it as a kind of extra large vein or artery but for magic rather than blood) that took all magic, no matter how it was shaped, through it and out. This was the reason that starting anything new, whether you were learning your first shield or starting at Auror training, was draining and painful to some extent. The channel was learning and adapting to this new kind of magic. What deeper magical study required, what Unspeakables had to learn and ultimately rework their channels because of, and what Harry had been diligently doing since the day he started practicing magic, was a technique that truly set unique well-rounded witches and wizards apart. What he did was build a network or lattice of small individual channels, each for its own branch of magic, wound and woven so closely together that it was all connective, and was more like a certain type of magic went down its own section of the channel. Think of it like a Twizzler as opposed to just plain old liquorice.

If you did this right you could cut back completely on wasted magic, optimize the magic you did use, and just generally get the best and purest results for the least amount of energy. It taught control, promoted a deeper connection to your magic and body, and any other number of things.

As of yet Harry had only worked the main one past natural limitations, the one down his right arm to his wand, but he had started on his left arm as well, now that he had two wands. Wandless magic to any place would be slightly different, but still need to be attached to the main channel. Eventually he would build several kinds, and to different places in his body as well. Now though, he had a channel for charms, transfigurations, defensive magic, offensive magic which was actually comprised of three (jinxes/hexes/curses), mind magic (although he hardly ever channeled that through his arm), parselmagic, and was currently building one for healing magic. An almost wafer-thin layer was attached to these to provide for the darker side. Eventually true dark magic would require its own set of channels. Also, as he got into the more advanced aspects of magic, he would have to either split some of them or create new ones for the specifics. For instance, instead of charms, he would have one for enchantments, one for animations, another for wards, and so on and so forth. Instead of transfigurations there would be conjurations, inanimate-to-inanimate, inanimate-to-animate, animate-to-animate, cross-species and all kinds of things. Both transfiguration and charms would be slightly interwoven to produce Transanimation when he learned it. Overkill? Harry didn't think so. And it left him sensitive to the slightest fluctuation or difference in magic, helped develop his magical senses, and would be an invaluable aid in almost every lost arcane art that Harry could think of.

Beginning to send magic through each in turn as a warm up, Harry watched as small puffs of smoke and sparks were emitted from both wands. After seven years, this would likely result in his room becoming one of those distinctly magical, even if he did not deliberately create. Mirrors developing personalities, drapes opening and closing, cleaning itself. Harry wouldn't be surprised if his guitar learned how to play itself.

-.x.**X**.x.-

The next morning, Harry was dressed and ready when the prefect Parker knocked on his door to bring him down with the others. "Hey, Potter, good to see you're up, it's about time for breakfast. Whoa, interesting work you've done here."

"Yeah, nothing much yet, but it's not like there's a rush."

"True, but this is really impressive. Hey, is that a guitar? You play?" he asked interestedly.

"No, but I would really like to change that. Know anyone?"

Parker laughed. "Sure, me. I'm muggleborn and my parents thought it would be a good skill to have, playing an instrument. I've been playing since I was seven. Maybe we could work something out, eh?" he offered as they walked into the common room.

"Sure," said Harry, now getting excited too, "that'd be great. We could do it after the group study sessions. Since you're a prefect and all, it should be just fine with Flitcick."

Parker blinked at Harry's knowledge of Ravenclaw house workings, before shaking his head. "I'm just going to stop being surprised by anything you say. C'mon everybody let's head down."

-.x.**X**.x.-

_Breakfast: 6:30-7:30 am_

_Lunch: 12:15-1:00 pm_

_Dinner: 6:30-8:30 pm_

_Mandatory Study Hall Hours (to be logged with Madam Pince) per week: 7_

_Monday- Transfiguration (Hufflepuff) 8:00-10:00 am, Herbology (Slytherin) 1:30-3:30 pm_

_Tuesday- Double Potions (Hufflepuff) 10:00-12:00 pm/1:30-3:30 pm, History (Slytherin) 3:45-6:00 pm_

_Wednesday- Charms (Gryffindor) 7:30-9:30 am, Transfiguration (Hufflepuff) 9:45-11:45 am, Astronomy (Hufflepuff)_

_Thursday- Defense Against the Dark Arts (Gryffindor) 8:00-10:00 am, Flying (Hufflepuff) 2:15-3:45 pm_

_Friday- Herbology (Slytherin) 9:30-11:30 am, Defense Against the Dark Arts (Gryffindor) 1:15-3:15 pm, Charms (Gryffindor) 3:30-5:30 pm_

-.x.**X**.x.-

Checking his schedule for the room number, Harry began making his way towards Transfiguration, not looking forward to this week, or month for that matter, at all. It was sure to be menial. Harry had decided that he gained nothing from holding back at Hogwarts and hiding his skill, other than holding an unknown variable. And besides, in his time here, Harry wanted to cultivate himself as someone of authority with many useful connections, and one did not get into a leadership position or the respect of his peers by being just another face in the crowd. Harry would show the world that it had made a mistake casting him into the shadows. He would show the Potters that he was better than they were, and that it was much too late for any reconciliation. Harry knew, he understood better than anyone, that respect was earned and not given. Unless your name was Casey Potter of course. But that was the exception, and only the sheep really respected him. No, Harry intended to earn every ounce of respect the world would give him. He had learned the hard way that in the end, the only person he could fully rely upon was himself, and so did everything in his considerable power to ensure that he was up to the task. And it would start right here at Hogwarts, building his reputation as one of the greatest wizards to have ever lived. But first, Transfiguration. Baby steps, Harry, baby steps.

Walking in Harry took a seat in the third row on the right side, next to the quiet Su Li. He saw Professor McGonagall on her desk, but didn't draw attention to it. Drawing his holly wand, Harry leaned back in his seat and began absentmindedly twirling it around his fingers, waiting for class to begin. McGonagall, who had gone to school with a young Tom Riddle, shivered a little at how eerily similar the two looked at that moment. Ten minutes later, after a dressing down of the Weasley boy and Casey, but mostly the Weasley boy, class began.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn here at Hogwarts. As such, anyone found messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." She proceeded to turn her desk into a pig and back. '_Wonderful explanation there, I'm sure the muggle raised are now so much more informed._' Note the sarcasm. What followed was forty minutes of lecture and seven pages worth of concise, thorough notes, alleviating Harry's cynicism and causing him to pay attention.

After that, they were given matches to try to turn into needles. Looking around at the students waving their wands wildly and saying the incantation for this type of change in increasingly louder voices, Harry briefly smiled a predatory smile. '_Here we go…_'

"Verto." Harry spoke imagining the change in his head and pressing his will that it be done into his magic. With a flick of his wand, the match changed instantly into a perfect needle. Not silver, of course, that was beyond him, but neither was it the steel that was expected. His was a titanium alloy, much shinier. Perhaps he could learn to plate it in silver? Harry's thoughts were interrupted by McGonagall. "Very good, Mr. Potter. Ten points to…Ravenclaw."

Harry smiled charmingly and nodded, accepting the praise. He spent the rest of the period ignoring everyone else's shock and awe as he sat lazily reverting the match to its original form before turning it into a myriad of other things. A toothpick, a Q-Tip, a pencil, a toothbrush, whatever came to mind and wasn't too far from the size of the match. While he was doing this, he was feeling around the room, trying to sense the wands of the students as they worked. By the end of the lesson he had identified the Hufflepuff girls, except for Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, all had Unicorn hairs. For that matter, so did Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst. And Entwhistle, Finch-Fletchy, Smith, and Hopkins. Guess he'd found the most common core. Turpin's and Li's were clearly Ebony. Generally associated with power, those two would bear watching. Goldstein had Limewood, Harry wasn't sure what that meant. MacDougal's wand was made of Willow, specially suited for enchantment, healing, and the psychic. Finally, the Bones heir held some kind of redwood. Again, with the power. Maybe he should start writing these things down.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Blaise Zabini walked into the greenhouse for his first ever Herbology lesson. Professor Sprout told those just arriving that they were to be working in pairs, so Blaise had a choice to make. The Slytherins were already paired up, leaving Nora Moon the odd one out. But not all the Ravens had arrived, as of yet, leaving Potter free.

Waiting to be Sorted last night, Blaise had been amusing himself with snaky comments in his head of all the other kids, when a slim dark haired boy had appeared next to him. Not moved suddenly, not snuck up behind him, bloody _appeared_. And Blaise could not for the life of him get a read on the boy. He had pitch black wavy hair and mesmerizing blue-green eyes; he was slightly taller than Blaise which was surprising, and his face as well as his stance was decidedly blank. He had kept it together throughout the whole ceremony more admirably than anyone else. Blaise could feel the power practically rolling off of him, and had some sort of sense when he was near, that he was dangerous. Only to find out that he was a Potter. Obviously the twin of the Boy-Who-Lived. Most assuredly a light sided Gryffindor, right? Wrong. A neutral Ravenclaw, which gave away nothing at all.

Zabinis were neutral throughout all the last four major Light/Dark wars here in Britain. But that would have to change eventually. A family as prominent as his was bound to be forced eventually to some Dark Lord or other, and Zabinis planned ahead, worked the situation in their favor, and came out on top. More to the point, that was his mother and ancestors. Blaise didn't _want_ to be neutral. No, he was for the dark, and when it rose, he would be ready. Looking at the Potter twin, Blaise knew there was something special about him, and made up his mind. '_It's a bit early for such risks, but they must be taken._' And he sat down on the stool next to Potter, who looked over with a raised eyebrow. Blaise smirked at him. Let him make of that what he will.

-.x.**X**.x.-

"There he is!"

"Where? I can't see him!"

"There, next to the tall red head, that's Casey Potter!"

"Wow, I can't believe it!"

"I know. Hey, have you seen the other Potter, his brother?"

"Yeah, he's supposed to be like some kinda genius, even Snape likes him."

"No way!"

"Yeah, shut up! Snape doesn't like anybody."

"Well, he likes the Ravenclaw Potter."

"You know, he is kind of cute."

"Monica, he's a first year!"

"I know…but he's a cute first year, that's all I'm saying. He's got a dark broody thing going on, but then he's just so nice when you talk to him."

"Casey Potter isn't bad either, wonder what he's like. I heard he pulled some crazy stunt during the flying lesson and got made Seeker on the Gryffindor team."

"Mmm."

-.x.**X**.x.-

That Friday, after a ridiculously easy all-theory charms quiz, Harry sat in the common room next to Padma preparing for the weekly Ravenclaw group review session. This was a chance to make sure everyone understood everything they were supposed to. The younger students could go to the older ones for help or practical demonstration, and the upper years could practice with each other.

The rest of his classes had gone in the same way as the first, with him emerging as someone to be watched. He had definitely caught the attention of the professors. McGonagall was impressed despite herself, Flitwick as excited and bouncy as ever, even Sprout and Sinistra seemed to like him. Snape was an…interesting experience. Certainly an intimidating man, he was one of the most powerful and competent on the staff. After the dramatic speech, he had assaulted Harry with questions. They were answered calmly and with wit. That seemed to have stalled the man somewhat, even if he still managed to keep the tense atmosphere in the dungeon, he diverted most of his ire onto Casey. Boo-frickety-hoo.

He didn't get along well with the boys in his house and year. Corner, in particular, had gone and started trying to ostracize him the second day of school. Maybe because Harry was quickly becoming the top and favored student. In history, the twit had started in about how jealous Harry must be of his brother, and how he was just a nerd who wouldn't make any friends. Really, below Harry's radar as even reply-worthy. And besides, the female population seemed to disagree. Most seemed nice enough, and he was at least civil with every girl in his year, with the sole exception of Parkinson.

And then there was Blaise. Harry could see what he was doing, attaching himself to Harry as an acquaintance before he gained fame as a gifted student, or anything other than that actually. It was a bold move, and a gamble. But he had proved to be valuable company. They studied sometimes in the library, both ahead of their year. He was intelligent, crafty, and skilled. Exactly the kind of person Harry needed. It helped to sometimes bounce their sarcastic humor off of each other as well.

He would have to start to work in meetings with Helena, and guitar lessons with Parker, or Xander as he told Harry to call him. Oh, and he needed to start running again before he fell out of shape. Harry spent a lot of his spare time either in the library looking for something interesting that was non-curricular or exploring the castle, charting out places he hadn't been or trying to find new hidden passages. It was easy to start to settle into a routine.

A/N: Well that was…longer than I had planned.

As we move forward and get more AU, things will change. It will be more dialogue and action, and not so much large doses of theory and inner musings.

Next chapter is a bit of a jump, and we will see more of other characters. Quirrel, Snape, Dumbledore, Casey, Hermione, it's all in there.

**Heh**: Now you see the problem. While your advice and points were sound and appreciated, indeed it helped to reassure me I needed to tone down the abuse that was planned, I never said Harry was going to be a Slytherin. He certainly has Slytherin qualities, maybe even more so than Ravenclaw. But as of now, he has not yet manifested them to their full potential. He will. And it will be at a time when he is in a much better position to make use of them. And like the hat said, Ravenclaw is better and safer for Harry, regardless of how Harry is suited to the houses. And while Harry is "coming out" more at Hogwarts, he still needs time to prepare in the background. Being thrown into that Gryffindor/Slytherin, Light/Dark feud thing would polarize him and force his hand way too early. His plans go way beyond revenge against the authority fogures who wronged him, but he will still have it. He still harbors a lot of a kind of detached hate. But at this point, he is still a child with no clout, and Dumbledore and the Potters would steamroll right over him. Looking at public perception, he isn't the evil vengeful twin in the public eye now, he is the mystery, the enigma.

Oh, hey, I'm looking for this book I read a long time ago and can't remember anymore. All that I remember is the guy is some kind of scholar, I think. And he brings his family to this city that is a good place for scholars, or something like that. At the end, the city catches fire, I think, and a giant pumpkin or whatever that he has turns out to be this huge jewel everyone has been after. Anyone know what I'm talking about?


	5. Halloween

Guess what people. Go on ,guess. Fine, I'll just tell you. I don't own any of this stuff.

Well I was gonna put this off, but it's Friday night, I got nothing to do for a few more hours, it's finally cooled down, the radio is playing good music, and I'm in a really good mood. So, you guys get a chapter.

Ha I Google'd it, Halloween of 1991 was on a Thursday. And yes, the only reason I did that was so I would know which class Harry would be walking out of to start this chapter.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I truly appreciate it. Also, if you added this story to your favorites or alerts, thanks.

To those who want to see the dark Harry: patience. I too love Harry and as I said, this story will feature dark Harry. But I want to do this right, and he's not going to be an evil little sociopath at age 11.

**Ch. 5: Halloween**

Harry left the lecture hall with Blaise, glad that his last class of the day, at least until later that night, was over. It was Wednesday, and tomorrow was Halloween. For the muggleborn, anyway. It was All Hallows Eve for the halfbloods, and Samhain for the purebloods. Generally, that's how it went. It was also the tenth anniversary of the Dark Lord's fall, and the first year of the vaunted savior's magical education. The new Minister for Magic of the United Kingdom, one Cornelius Oswald Fudge, had said this was to be a day of celebration. A testament to the resiliency of Great Britain's people, a landmark of how far they had come, and a beacon of hope for a bright future. In actuality, cutting through the bullshit, this was the price of the Potters' endorsement in the recent elections. They supported him in his campaign, and all he had to do was declare October 31st some kind of double-holiday.

"Did you see Weasley try to turn his button into a beetle? It kept its legs and scurried right up under his robes. Thought the self righteous moron was going to have a coronary." Blaise was like this to everyone behind their backs, he had a very sharp and insulting sense of humor. "Glad it's over though, four classes in a single day." That may not seem like much, but with two hour periods it was a bit taxing. Since tomorrow's lessons were cancelled, the tutoring session was moved up a day. Defense had another time slot during the week, and wasn't exactly a productive period in the first place anyway.

With the exception of Casey, who had somehow made the Gryffindor team in his first year, every other first year would have Flying once a week. For those that were obviously in no dire need of instruction, they could switch instead to what they had just left. You went to a large open hall with plenty of tables and chairs, and worked on whatever you needed to. There was one supervising professor, Professor Sinistra. She taught only at nights otherwise, but was actually quite brilliant; she _was_ the youngest Hogwarts professor at 20 for a reason. It was also one of the responsibilities of the 7th year prefects to be available to help, as well as the heads when they could. In fact, Harry had finally, with some private help from Nymphadora Tonks, gotten the standard Latin disillusionment charm to work successfully, something he had been struggling with. She was a bit of an oddity, the Head Girl this year without ever having been a prefect, much like James Potter. Apparently these last few years she had really buckled down, determined to make it into Auror training, and now had a spot reserved along with flawless grades and an assertive but easy-going personality. She also didn't bat an eye at a first year mastering his first piece of NEWT level spell work, always a plus.

"Yeah, I think it had something to do with all the legs, should be an interesting little tidbit to explore."

Blaise smirked. "Indeed. Honestly Harry, you should have been in Slytherin. You think exactly like us."

"Hmm. Can you imagine the riot that would have caused? I would have been proclaimed the next Dark Lord overnight. Then again, that would have only ended in me suing the Daily Prophet for slander and adding a pile of gold to my personal vault, as well as media protection, so that might not have been a bad thing after all…." Harry trailed off with a fake thoughtful look. Blaise chuckled and shook his head, only having had his point reinforced. They had reached the clock tower courtyard and took a seat on one of the benches under a tree, dropping their bags to the floor.

There were quite a few people out here, playing Gobstones, messing around with some spells, or just hanging about talking. It was nice and warm outside, causing those who could, to take advantage of the opportunity to be outdoors. With November right around the corner, it was bound to be one of the last days of warmth.

"So what do you want to do?"

Harry sighed. "Well, I've got Astronomy tonight, but that shouldn't be a problem. Being up there relaxes me. Until then, I don't know. No where I really need to be."

"Anything interesting you can show me?" He inquired hopefully. Blaise had quickly gotten used to Harry's almost unprecedented ability with magic of all kinds and moved quickly to tap into that resource. Petty jealousy was for Gryffindors. Besides, he was a phenomenal student on his own, one of the best in school. Harry, though, was…..well, Harry. In a different league. Everyone now realized this, although Blaise was probably the only one that realized this early that it was the Albus Dumbledore/ Tom Riddle/ Nicholas Flamel/ Gellert Grindelwald kind of league. At the least. And he was more than happy to show Blaise some non-curriculum material and a few tricks he had picked up. Stuff that while it wouldn't help in classes per se, was truly interesting and useful magic.

"Hey, you know what, that's a good idea. Let's go down to the lake and I'll show you some water-based elemental spells."

"Water? You mean more than 'Aguamenti'?" Blaise asked curiously as they picked up their stuff and began walking across the same bridge Harry had used to enter the castle on September 1st.

Harry nodded. "Mmhmm, water is my best element so I've studied it a bit more thoroughly. There are all kinds of things you can do with it if you know the right spells." He explained as they came to the old Solstice Circle. "Having a wide array of options in any case is always best." Blaise nodded thoughtfully, looking forward to expanding his repertoire a bit more. This whole exchange was mutually beneficial. Blaise in return spent time brewing with Harry. They made a dynamic duo as partners. Blaise was an absolute natural in Potions and Harry had studied up to fourth year, not to mention that he picked up things fast, learning the little nuances and habits Blaise had. Of course, he didn't quite have that intuition and innateness, but he couldn't complain. In addition, Blaise taught Harry magical history. The Zabini family obviously had a secret source of records and manuscripts from many different sides and perspectives all throughout history, and had been remarkably adept at putting it all together into a stunningly unbiased objective account. The two had never been to a second History lesson. So far no one had been brave enough to follow their example, but it was only a matter of time.

"Are we going to start dueling? I'm really interested in that, but any book on the subject isn't very helpful at all. I was going to look for actual instruction, but figured you might be able to." Blaise put forward, raising an eyebrow at Harry.

Harry eyed him back for a moment before shrugging. "You can if you want. I'm not starting until this summer. I will start conditioning for it this year, though. Hopefully my godfather can get assigned to England permanently for awhile. He has a talent for it; he's got two dueling masteries, power casting and speed & precision, I think." He added quietly, glancing at the few people lounging on the sloping hillside, "He was one of the few to survive dueling with the Dark Lord, you know. I don't mean escape before he could put up wards or take a few pot-shots while he was occupied with Dumbledore like the Potters. I mean actually fought him."

Here Harry broke into a grin at Blaise's wonder that he could sense even if nothing gave away on his face. "Of course, he did have Mad-Eye Moody with him at the time, and he was hospitalized for two weeks. But still, he went 30 minutes with the Dark Lord. And he's got this big arse scar down the side of his ribs that he can't resist showing off." Blaise snorted in amusement, trying to picture being so casual about surviving that kind of encounter. "He loves the thing. I bet that that, more than anything, is why he moved to the Caribbean. It's so he doesn't have to wear a shirt. I can't count the number of times he's got to talking to some girl, and five minutes later his shirt's off and he's asking, 'Want to know how I got this?'." They both laughed, having reached the lake and settled into an out of the way spot.

Moving to where the edge of the forest touched the water, where there was plenty of room to practice and they would have fair warning of anyone approaching, the two unholstered their wands and faced each other.

"Now, is 'Aguamenti' the only water charm you know?"

"Pretty much."

"Not surprising. But it shouldn't be hard at all to add three or four more to your repertoire right now. This first one is for when you need quantity. The incantation is 'Inundo Torrens', and there aren't any particular wand movements. From the point of wherever you point your wand, water should just gush out. Here watch." Pointing to the middle of the clearing, Harry muttered the spell, causing the whole area to flood with water, so much so that it actually rose a few inches above the forest floor.

"Well that certainly seems more powerful than 'Aguamenti'." Blaise said, now seeing the point of the water spells. "Alright then, 'Inundo Torrens!'." A gurgle sounded and he created a small tide pool sized puddle.

"Not bad for your first attempt. Try putting more emphasis on the last syllable." Harry noted from the side. Blaise tried a few more times, improving a little each time. After about fifteen minute, he was having a little too much fun flooding little sections of the forest. Harry decided it was time to move on, and a casual wave of his wand caused the water from their activities to be absorbed into the ground.

"This next spell takes in all the surrounding moisture in the air, the ground, the plants, and absorbs it into your body. There's another spell that couples with it and together they are designed to keep you going if you find yourself trapped in the wilderness or some such, but we'll worry about that later. "'Sanguisuga Humoris'." Harry spoke clearly, twirling his wand nimbly around himself. That one took awhile, but Blaise was patient and adept, and eventually proved capable of it. There was no real difference now, other than a slight thirst had vanished, but it would probably prove useful one day.

Harry decided he had one more to share today. If this was anyone else, he wouldn't consider it. "This last is a precursor to the curse that encases your opponent's body in ice. This version freezes the joints, making movement impossible and the meantime somewhat painful." Harry tilted his head inquiringly. Receiving a steely nod in return, he smoothly brought his wand to bear and said, "'Frigora'." The clear icy blue spell hit Blaise dead center. Releasing it after a few moments Blaise shivered. "Long term exposure can cause the usual: tissue scaring, nerve damage, hypothermia, that kind of thing. Your turn."

Harry didn't have long to wait. The same light hit him not a moment later, on Blaise's first try. Smirking smugly, Blaise dispelled it and the boys traded warming charms.

They went up the hill a ways before sitting down. Blaise laid back and yawned, turning one eye on his friend. "How do you know all these anyway. We've barely started school."

Harry was quiet, considering. Finally he spoke. "Magic has always come naturally to me. It's….well, it's all I've had for most of my life, so I spent every waking moment I could learning more, practicing what I could… I think it's obvious that my family doesn't acknowledge me. I spent more time alone in the Black Family Library than with them." There, that was enough opening up for now. Or ever. Harry didn't want to talk about Before. He tried not to even think about it. He was moving on now, on to better things. Or at least that is what he tried to tell himself. It didn't always work. But Blaise was talking again.

"I guess that explains it." He said wryly. That library was as infamous as some of the family members. "I only as out of curiosity. I'm more than happy to take advantage of your knowledge." He said, grinning. Harry snorted. "I'll admit it was unexpected, you being a Potter. You'll need to be careful. People watch closely, if for no other reason than you're the Boy-Who-Lived's twin brother. For that alone it's dangerous knowing curses …..and because, well you know."

Harry frowned. Indeed. It was a bit unexpected, actually. Taking out that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet, Harry scanned the article yet again.

_JAMES POTTER REJOINS AURORS!_

_Lord Potter, 31, Puddlemere United Chaser 1977-79 and respected warrior in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as well as father of the Boy-Who-Lived Casey Potter, announced this morning that he will be taking up his old post in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. _

"_Well, now that Casey's finally off to Hogwarts, I'm free to go back to work helping defend the wizarding world from Dark threats." Potter had to say from his home in Godric's Hollow, the site of You-Know-Who's glorious defeat 10 years ago today. England in no way begrudges Lord Potter his hiatus from formal employment as he took the time to raise our savior and also see to the reconstruction of the Potter Family Manor in Holyhead, Wales. _

_James Potter is renown for his skill with a wand, and many of us will rest easier knowing that he is working to protect us. Lord Potter will be placed under the command of Senior Auror Dawlish in the same credentials he left with: Auror 3__rd__ Class, 3__rd__ Rank. No meager achievement for only 2 years on active duty._

_We here at the Daily Prophet would like to wish Lord Potter congratulations, and our heartfelt gratitude. No word yet as to whether or not Lily Potter will seek employment._

They sat in thoughtful silence after that, before getting up and beginning to walk back up to the castle. It was starting to get dark, and they needed to get ready for dinner. Not to mention that Harry still had Astronomy after that.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry ran his thumb over the small rune by his door that activated all the locking and privacy charms and wards he had so far managed to cast over his quarters. Collapsing into an armchair, Harry looked over the place, feeling very satisfied with himself. He had added some furniture beyond the desks and bed. Namely the magical wardrobe, the sofa and armchairs, and the large finely made bookshelves. The room had a very comfortable feel to it.

Yawning, Harry got ready for bed. He was actually very thankful there was no classes tomorrow. Harry didn't like Halloween. It ruined everything for him. And he wanted a break. Everyone was acting….off. Quirrel was a stuttering moron. But sometimes in class, when everyone was working, he would look at Harry. With clear, unafraid eyes that sometimes bled into crimson. The Gryffindors were always staring, and in the case of some glaring, at him. The rest of the school was alright, but there was something going on, Harry could feel it.

Laying down, Harry stared out of his windows at the starry night. Whatever it was, it could wait. Harry wanted to brood for now. Halloween sucked.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry walked down from Ravenclaw Tower wearing exercise shoes, gym shorts, and a t-shirt. He was tossing a football up and down with his right hand, in a good mood feeling energized and wanting a good match. He was attracting a lot of attention with his attire and casual walk. More specifically he was gaining a lot of attention from the purebloods, most specifically from the _female_ purebloods. While plenty purebloods were in decent shape, it was still a soft and smooth kind of shape. No definition or tanning to speak of, and nothing but robes to showcase it. Some, the guys, sneered _discretely_ at the muggle clothes, but didn't dare be too obvious. It had been two months, and Harry was the undisputed top student. He'd probably be the top third year if he could. But it was also known that he wasn't your usual nerd. He was personable and charming, a good mix between casual and polite so no matter if they were muggleborn or from an old family, they found themselves getting along well with Harry. Instead, the school shifted its ire to the next couple of smart kids with little superiority complexes, hypocritical reasoning, and antisocial problems. _Cough _Granger. Now there was a girl who couldn't see her own faults. She didn't even try, instead blaming the world.

On the fourth floor, Harry ran into the Gryffindor first years coming from the direction of the games and clubs courtyard. The loud voice of his twin was easily identifiable, and the rest of the gaggle of fans were listening enraptured. Well, not Granger, she was just hanging on the edge of the group quietly.

All too soon, Casey caught sight of Harry and brought the group to a halt. Brown and Padma's twin giggled and began whispering to each other. Granger just frowned at him, but a tall black boy's eyes lit up on seeing what Harry was carrying. Casey smirked and stepped forward, obviously thinking he was about to torment Harry just like at home. What with the separation of houses and everything, Harry actually hadn't seen much of Casey since the school year started, let alone said anything to him.

"Where you going, Harry? And why do you have that stupid muggle ball? You should be here celebrating me like everyone else. But I guess if you suck so bad at Quidditch, then you'd need to find something easy." He jeered, in ignorance as usual. Harry began counting the seconds. "I keep hearing about you from everyone, it's so annoying. Like you're actually worth anything. Maybe I should put you in your place like I did You-Know-Who." '_Woooooooow. Was he serious?_'

Harry raised an eyebrow, turning to face the group slowly. Taking a step closer and looking down on Casey, Harry allowed his face to form a dark smile, more a vicious smirk than anything as he drawled, "Riiiiiiiiight. Watch your back, Savior. Mummy and Daddy aren't here to protect you."

Holding up the football and twirling it, Harry looked over Casey's shoulder. "Thomas, I hear you're the football fanatic in Gryffindor. Wanna play?"

Thomas looked at the group of Gryffindors before back at Harry. "Abso-bloody-lutely."

Harry nodded and began walking off with Thomas, ignoring the rest who for some reason unknown to Harry followed them out to the grounds.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Their things left under the shade of a small tree, Harry and Dean ran back and forth along their makeshift field. The score was 3-2 to Dean, and Harry was set on making a comeback. With a wide grin fixed firmly on his face, Harry juked out of Dean's reach and sent the ball through the goal consisting of two enlarged stones, tying it up. Harry pumped a fist in the air and whooped. He hadn't had fun like this in a long time.

After Dean had gotten used to this other side of Harry, he had opened up giddily, laughing and giving the game his all without being too serious about it. The two of them were getting along perfectly, as it seemed they had a lot in common. Both were usually reserved and easy to get along with, and both had a healthy competitiveness and love for sports. Dean even played bass. He had a brother who had decided he wanted to start a band, and naturally he was to be the lead singer and guitar player, so his little brother got to be bass. That had come out when Dean had nervously asked why Harry was being friendly with a muggleborn. Harry had outright laughed at that. He really did have a jerk twin, although it did explain why a handful of Gryffindors were always glaring at him. While Harry was disproving that rumor, he had mentioned getting guitar lessons from his muggleborn housemate Xander Parker. Dean couldn't bring his because it was electric. Hmm, something to think on. But later; right now he had a football game to win.

They had managed to attract a decent audience, drawing the attention of those who had been lounging around on the grounds. Those who knew what football was and liked it cheered and applauded Harry's last move, causing the two boys to look up and finally notice the people watching. Both having played for clubs before just shrugged and returned to the match. The others had mixed reactions having been drawn by the crowd, the unknown sport, or Casey. Casey, already having been shut down by his brother, and Ron, the sidekick ignorant of muggles, were together badmouthing what they were watching.

"They don't even fly. What's the point of a game if they don't fly?"

"I don't know mate. But it's bloody slow. This is boring. Bet this is all Harry can do. I've never seen him fly come to think of it." Casey said.

"Well _I think_ it is entirely preferable over Quidditch." Hermione Granger sniffed in what was admittedly a very annoying stuck up voice. It didn't matter at the moment, however, Casey would have jumped on just about anyone to nurse his wounded pride. Heedless, she carried on. "To say nothing of how it's less dangerous, football requires a lot more skill, and the players are responsible for more in terms of scoring. It's not like there's a player who can just come along and completely skew the score and end the game in one move."

Casey sneered at her. "No one asked what you think Granger. Merlin, you're so annoying. Always butting in and expecting everything to conform to what you want. It's no wonder you've got no friends, you're always looking down your nose and spouting off about the muggle world. Why don't you go ruin someone else's day? No one wants you here."

The girl lost her superior attitude in the blink of an eye and ran off in tears. Casey and Ron looked at each other uneasily, only now realizing he may have gone too far. Going over it in his head Ron winced a bit, but after awhile both shrugged it off and went back to criticizing Harry Potter.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry and Dean walked into the Library chatting amicably but quietly. Dean was asking about the magical world, parts of the culture and lifestyle muggleborn usually didn't get unless they moved entirely into it later in life. All the while Harry was flipping through Dean's sketchbook. "Mate, these are really good. I never would have guessed you had so many hidden talents. Hardly any of the people here do, really."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks." He knew he was a good artist, but for some reason getting the praise from Harry made him a little embarrassed and proud at the same time. Which was odd, considering he had only met the guy earlier that day. They came to a stop where Dean stood awkwardly in front of the group surrounding the pushed together tables. He actually didn't know anyone who wasn't from Gryffindor, except Harry now. Today was a day for surprises apparently. They had all stopped talking and were looking at them. Harry it seemed hadn't noticed at all, he was still flipping through the book, interested in the drawings. A cough from Blaise caused him to look up.

"Oh, right, Dean this is Susan Bones, Lisa Turpin, Padma Patil, and Blaise Zabini. Guys, this is Dean Thomas." He handed the book back to its owner and frowned suddenly, tilting his head forward to gaze piercingly through his eyelashes, a trick he had learned when he accidentally scared a House Elf half to death. "None of you would happen to have a problem with Dean, now, would you?" He asked softly, in a lower voice than usual. Ah, the art of the left-unsaid. '_Because if you do, then you have a problem with me too._' Or. '_You better bloody well not have a problem with him._' Or. '_You do not have a problem with him. Now sit down, smile, and nod._' Whichever one they wanted to pick was fine with Harry.

"Of course not!" Susan immediately smiled, beckoning Dean to the seat next to her that Hannah sat in when she occasionally came. Padma and Lisa made reassurances as well, but Harry was looking at Blaise who had been staring back at him the whole time. "No," he said after awhile, giving a slight shake of the head, "I don't suppose I do."

"Great." Harry said brightly, his whole demeanor shifting in an instant. He sat next to Blaise to go over the common dueling stances. They had an upcoming test in Defense. Dean would probably be surprised, Harry thought; theirs was the group that had all the tricks for the useless classes. The not so useless ones too, actually.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly, sighing as he walked from the Library towards the Grand Staircase. He was already on the ground floor making his way to the hall with the fruit bowl painting when he heard a scream. Harry hesitated, realizing he was outside the girls bathroom, not sure what to do. A loud grunt and a feminine shriek for help and he decided that his assistance was needed. Stirring his magic around him, Harry went inside prepared to bully away an older student.

Inside Harry came up short, eyes going wide. Instead of the pushy boyfriend Harry expected to find, it was a Troll. A big arse Troll.

Reacting on instinct, Harry drew the Yew wand and shouted "Terebro!", aiming for the beast's eyes. It hit the cheek instead, causing the Troll's cheekbone to jut out gruesomely. It roared in pain and rage, bringing its full attention to Harry. The thing hurled its club at Harry, who dodged. It hit the corner of two walls and shattered, one jagged piece catching Harry just above the temple.

"Shite. Inundo Torrens! Glacius! Incarcerous! Bombarda Maxima! Confringo! Confringo! Incarcerous! Verto!"

Quickly flooding the floor, Harry froze the water, turning it to ice so that the Troll would lose its balance. Casting ropes around its legs, Harry cast the most powerful Bombardment Hex he could, causing the thing to topple over with an almighty thud. Dual blasters corralled it into a corner. More ropes quickly sprung up around its arms and chest, and finally Harry transfigured the bonds into solid bands of steel.

Sliding across the floor in an acrobatic move that surprised him almost enough to make him pause, Harry mounted the Troll's chest and leveled his wand point blank at its throat. Setting his face in a grim mask, fully aware he was about to traumatize the girl, Harry wondered if he'd be seeing any Thestrals in the near future.

"Reducto! Reducto! Reducto!"

As the red light faded, Harry could see that the throat had collapsed disturbingly, and bluish blood was gushing in a puddle, ruining his robes. Harry silenced the nauseating gurgle, and raised his wand once more. Granger turned away, obviously seeing he was about to land the final blow. Then looked back around confused at his incantation.

"Scourgify."

A stream of bubbles began spewing from the creatures mouth, as well as the gaping hole in its throat. It struggled for about 30 seconds before finally going still. It was dead.

Stepping back and wiping his brow, Harry turned to check on Granger. She seemed to be in shock, staring at him blankly. Hearing the fast approaching footsteps, Harry ducked his wand into his robes, bringing out his Holly wand. Granger looked at him curiously and he sent her a warning look before facing the entrance of the bathroom as Professors McGonagall, Snape, Quirrel, and Dumbledore burst in. Quickly taking stock of the situation, McGonagall gasped, clutching her chest and paling. Snape was also a shade whiter somehow, looking around sharply, his gaze lingering on the Troll. Quirrrel was staring at Harry again with those clear, piercing eyes. And Dumbledore…actually, Dumbledore was also staring at Harry, as though he were a newly discovered species of bug, and Dumbledore was much more curious about his insides than out. Harry let out a breath and marshaled his thoughts, preparing for the upcoming conversation even though his hands were shaking lightly as the adrenaline high he was still on began fading ever so slowly.

"You know," he said to himself, "I really should learn some more combat spells."

Quirrel's eyes gleamed crimson at that, while Snape lifted an eyebrow. "It seems to me as though you did just fine as you are now, Mr. Potter." The Potions Master drawled. This served to finally snap McGonagall out of it. "Wh-What is the meaning of this?" She demanded with her nostrils flared. A glance at the Headmaster showed the old man looking on with a solemn expression. They were actually trying to turn this into a disciplinary matter? Oh hell no.

"It would seem, Professor, that two of your Gryffindors," he said lowly, "ridiculed another one of yours into spending the holiday crying in here." Harry gestured around the decimated bathroom. Having spoken before Granger could open her mouth with whatever pointless lie she had come up with, Harry didn't quite know why he was being so accusatory and careless with the teachers, but he didn't care to think on it, he had just taken down a freaking Troll!

"I suppose House unity is a foreign concept for them, but considering the culprits, it could be just Weasley and Potter." Everyone looked at him strangely calling his brother that.

"M-may I a-a-ask w-why you ch-chose t-t-to d-dis-dispatch the Troll in t-th-that p-particular manner?" Quirrel finally stuttered out. Taking in the mutilated throat again the others flinched.

"Well, I killed it." Harry said, summoning his bag and reaching in for some parchment. "So it's mine." Everyone was getting used to these continual surprises now, and stared while he began composing a letter right there on the spot. Then Dumbledore spoke up for the first time.

"Mr. Potter, I do not think that that is such-"

"By right of conquest, the Troll belongs to me. Or are you changing the Old Laws now, too?" Harry said bitterly, eyes boring into the Headmaster. McGonagall was incensed. "Now see here, Potter." But Dumbledore waved her off, clearly seeing Harry for the first time.

"So, anyway, I don't know what is useful from a Troll, but if there's anything, it is likely to be located in the head or chest, hence the throat wound." This time Quirrel's lips definitely twitched.

"And who are you writing too?"

"Gringott's. They should be able to collect it, take it to the right people to harvest, and store it in my vault for a service fee and small percentage of the proceeds of whatever I sell. Actually, maybe I should put another Troll leg umbrella stand at the Black house. It looks way bigger than the one there, I bet Sirius would freak when he sees it." Harry grinned triumphantly, whistling sharply and being rewarded a moment later when Hedwig landed on his shoulder. "Gringott's, girl." He told her. She hooted affectionately and left.

"Why aren't you in your dormitory, like you were told to be?"

Harry looked at her for a moment, unimpressed. "This was an order issued in the Great Hall, yes? Well I wasn't there. I was just on my way to the kitchens to get a bite, actually."

"Why wouldn't you be at the Feast? Especially today of all days?" McGonagall questioned confused, at the same time Granger blurted out, "You know where the kitchens are?"

Losing his patience, Harry sneered. '_Stupid, pushy, naïve Gryffindors._' "Yes especially today. This day has brought me nothing but pain. Now, if there's nothing else?" Harry pushed out of the room without waiting for an answer, angry at himself for his slip up.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Hermione Granger was wide awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't believe it, she had had an adventure! There had been a great ugly beast after her, and a young man had came in at the last second and saved her from it. He had even slayed the beast. Hermione turned a little green at that. The books don't tell you how nasty blood is. How it's slimy and sticky at the same time, and so very hard to wash off. How the smell of death is so strong. Hermione didn't know how Harry Potter had kept it so together.

Hermione sighed, she was confused. Was today a bad day or a good day? She had been teased again, and by the boy who was supposed to be the kindest, bravest, nicest person ever. Yeah right, his words had stung more than anyone else's. She was surprised Harry saved her. She hadn't been very nice, Hermione thought guiltily.

She had come to Hogwarts with the mindset that children here would be just like those at home. So, she wouldn't give them the chance to hurt her, and make her feel so worthless. That had been a mistake, she had looked down her nose at people, and of course they hadn't wanted to talk to a girl like that. She thought she could be above them, by being the best witch they had ever seen. But she wasn't. Harry Potter was the best, and there were a few pureblood children after him.

She didn't understand him. He knew more than anyone else in their year, and was always the first to get everything, but all the other kids liked him. No one teased him. Although, she thought, that might be because they were just scared he'd beat them up. But Harry Potter was better than her, and yet everyone liked him. And for that, she resented him. All these months she was depressed, having nothing at all. Hermione knew she wasn't supposed to, knew it was bad, but she had even started to wonder if anyone would miss her if she were to die.

But now, Harry had saved her. He was her hero, not Casey Potter. She would get to know him, Hermione decided. Maybe he could help her, maybe he would want to be her friend? If he did, he would be the first. Wiping her eyes, Hermione smiled for the first time since she'd seen her parents on the platform. Things were going to change.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Quirinus Quirrel, or Lord Voldemort as he was at the moment, chuckled darkly at what he had seen tonight. That first Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Defense lesson, when he had first realized that Casey Potter, "the Boy-Who-Lived", was the Gryffindor one with brown hair, he had had to fight the urge to cackle madly in an evil genius sort of way. He had done it instead in his mind, and for a full six and a half minutes, Quirrel's stutter wasn't faked in the least.

The boy, the actual survivor of his curse, had control over his mind. Not enough to keep the Dark Lord out, should he choose to batter his way through, but enough that he would clearly notice. And that wouldn't exactly be inconspicuous. Through careful observation, and the Legilimazation of everyone else around the boy, Lord Voldemort had come to the conclusion that Harry Potter had not had a happy childhood. While they worshipped the wrong twin, they had thrown away their only hope. And this made the Dark Lord happy.

And tonight. The child had some backbone. And a dark side. It was clearly well hidden, but it was there. He had slipped a little tonight, and the Dark Lord had caught a glimpse of himself at that age. Killing a Troll while already thinking of the best way to harvest it for parts, claiming it as property, not being bothered at all by blood or death, and that barb at Dumbledore about the Old Laws. Yes, Lord Voldemort's interest was piqued. He would need to revise his plans concerning his prophesized "equal". Someone like that could be invaluable.

He realized now, after having had ten years to think, that he had acted rashly on very little information. A school age Tom Riddle would have been disgusted with how he had handled the prophecy. No matter, he could not discount it, and could only move forward now. When he regained a body, first thing to do would be a little experimentation to see if his split soul was affecting him adversely. Then he would deal with Potter.

But first, that little red marvel of Alchemy. The traps were simplicity itself. The problem was the stone wasn't there. There was a medium sized circular and _empty_ room below the base of the North Tower. In all likelihood, if Dumbledore kept the stone wherever it was currently, it would remain safe from Lord Voldemort. But he knew the old man would move it. He could tell that room was being prepared for the stone. There was a veritable compendium of monitoring and alarm spells about the place. Voldemort had a feeling he would be meeting the Fake, as he called Casey Potter, sometime soon, if those defenses were any indication. Seems the old man was still up to his old games.

It was the real thing, Voldemort could feel it in the castle. He would likely never understand the old Headmaster. That he would so freely gamble a powerful artifact as some sort of test. Voldemort would have crafted a fake were he in Dumbledore's position. Hell, he would have crafted a fake were he in Nicholas Flamel's position. Stupid old light wizards. He would be ready.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Severus Snape had overheard the rumor that he actually liked this other Potter. Like so many other rumors, it was completely untrue. The boy was competent in Potions and was polite and composed. And he seemed to hate the Potters just as much, if not more so, than Snape himself did. For these reasons, Snape was able to keep any animosity strictly confined with his Occlumency. Meaning he treated Harry Potter just like every other Ravenclaw: slightly condescending but much more cordially than the other two houses. However, he didn't like Harry Potter.

Then there was tonight, with the Troll. Obviously there was more to him than seen on the surface. Given his well developed Occlumency, that should have been a given. Snape attributed his oversight of seeing Harry as a nerd Potter with no real interesting qualities as a blind spot due to the boy's surname.

Limping over to his store cupboard, Severus extracted a paste for his leg and a large bottle of Captain Morgan. Thank Circe for muggle alcohol; really, wizards had _so much_ bloody variety. You could have fire-whiskey, mead, or butterbeer. Finally collapsing into his desk chair, he sighed.

Snape could see the signs now, that pointed to neglect at the least. He himself knew what it was like to be abused, and should have recognized it in Potter. '_How could you, Lily?_' No matter though, he did now. Hearing of Potter from his colleagues, and seeing him bloody murder a Troll only to claim it as property, Snape decided that Harry Potter was something special. More than the Light-sycophant Potters. Would the boy turn dark?

Contrary to Dumbledore's beliefs, Snape hadn't changed sides just out of love for Lily. It was a contributing factor, certainly, but not the whole reason. And Dumbledore didn't save them anyway. It was only by a happy accident that Lily and the others were still alive. How exactly Albus had worked out that Snape owed him a debt when he didn't carry through on his end was beyond Severus. He was even free of the Life Debt, thank you very much. The life of his wife was enough to square up with James Potter.

However, Snape had already been considering defecting when the Dark Lord went after Lily. For months before his fall, the Dark Lord had been obsessing over this prophecy. His paranoia had grown to new levels. It was a…stressful time. No one was deluding themselves, the Dark Lord had won. He had mixed absolutely brilliant tactical moves with a ruthless brutality, and England was his. Weeks at the most from a complete takeover and gaining legitimacy for a larger campaign. And right when they were _right there_, within reach of their goals, all that they had worked for, he stopped. Changing his focus instead to this threat to his power. Not even a toddler. Severus' faith was lost.

He was still at Hogwarts now, because it was the best place to be. Dumbledore's protection covered him and reassured the old man. When the Dark Lord came back, this is where he would want Severus to be. He had no doubt the man would be even more insane, cruel, and inefficient than ever, and was fully prepared to sacrifice everything to see to the destruction of the Dark Lord. One of the few on this side, as he had shortly discovered, explaining in large part why the dark was winning. It wasn't because he wanted the Light to triumph. Severus was fully and happily dark; it was who he was. But Lord Voldemort's (flinch) was _evil_. Only difference was, before he had also been the best leader for the dark, but that was no longer true in Severus' mind.

But back to the Potter child; was it possible he was to be a champion of the dark, just as his twin was for the light? Severus paused suddenly. What if it was really Harry? Did he have a mark? '_Good God. The lightning bolt scar._'

Severus didn't know the story. But he would find out, it was what he was good at. And Harry Potter would have a blank slate with him from now on. It was obviously time to reevaluate everything.

"Thirty points to Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter." He whispered into the darkness. It was the first time Severus Snape had ever awarded points to a Potter.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Albus Dumbledore was alarmed. '_He killed a Troll. He's eleven years old. And he killed a fully grown Mountain Troll._' Could he have been wrong all those years ago? But no, Casey was powerful in his own right, and he was bathed in Lord Voldemort's magical signature. No, that was much too big a jump for just one act of competency. But still, he killed a Troll…

And the power he felt from the boy, it was amazing. Very few people from Britain could or would have what it takes to find out about the Greater Magical World, and how insular and inferior the United Kingdom actually was in the modern age. Clearly, Harry Potter was one such person. Were he to manifest that staggering potential, he could be a Mage-level easily.

That couldn't be allowed. No, not at all. Who knows if the boy would remain in the Light. It was very suspicious that no one had heard of him, and how he called his family "Potter". It hinted at a very disturbing picture. Albus remembered when he had met Tom Riddle all those years ago. Harry was different, of course, but there were more than a few similarities. Perhaps he should push Severus to befriend the boy? His Potions Master came from a bad home life, but had renounced the Dark. But no, Severus loathed Potters no matter how different. He would have to think of something.

Casey must be given his time to shine, to develop the traits necessary to become the hero of the Light. _Sigh._ Maybe he should have taken a more active role in his childhood. The Potter heir was exactly like James at that age. Hopefully like James, Casey would also buckle down later. The good news there was that one) Casey was decently powerful and fairly competent, two) he was now removed from his parents' influence and under Dumbledore's thumb, three) he was in Gryffindor and had befriended the Weasley's youngest, and four) he did not carry a piece of the Dark Lord's soul. Casey and Ronald had spent a night in the Hospital Wing after getting into a fight with the Nott heir. Dumbledore had slipped in and checked, and he was clean.

So there was that. Now, what to do about the other Potter…

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry swept into a very full common room looking like he had just fought his way out of Hell itself. His face was flushed, a good portion of his hair glued to his head with blood from a gash from the club. His robes were covered in gooey blue Troll blood, and his shoes were soaked, making the plaster and wooden debris stick to his form. Add that to the glint in his eyes and his wand which was still in his hand, he had the room silenced before he took four steps inside.

Focusing on the gunk covering him, Michael Corner stood and called across the room. "Nice look Potter. The smell suits you real well. What exactly have you been in to?" Nobody was laughing.

Harry turned to face the kid, face breaking out into a snarl. He stood glaring until the smile slipped from Corner's lips and he sat back down, gulping. "The inside of a Mountain Troll, Corner. Now I want a shower before bed, so fuck off."

A/N:

Hermionians: Hermione will grow into the woman she can be eventually, have no fear. Right now, just like in canon, she has a whole lot of problems, and Harry is gonna help her out with that. I know I haven't shown her in that great of light so far, but this is only the first look.

If anyone cares the heads for this year are Hadrian Pucey, Slytherin (oc)(older brother to Adrian Pucey who is a 3rd year at this time) and Nymphadora Tonks, Hufflepuff.

The Prefects are:

[R]: 5th yr: Penelope Clearwater, Alexander Parker (oc)

6th yr: Natalia Smith (oc)(older sis to Zacharias), Lucas Vane (oc)(older bro to Romilda)

7th yr: Sabrina Moon (oc)(older sister to Nora), Aaron Hornsby (oc)

[G]: 5th yr: Eira Morgan (oc), Percival Weasley

6th yr: Brook Sully (oc), Miles McLaggen (oc)(older brother to Cormac)

7th yr: Audrey Bell (oc)(older sis to Katie), Owen Cross (oc)

[S]: 5th yr: Courtney Stimpson (oc)(adopted cousin to Patricia), Victor Selwyn (oc)

6th yr: Ella Davies (oc)(older sister to Roger), Hector Moon (oc)(older brother to Nora)

7th yr: Tabitha Runcorn (oc)

[H]: 5th yr: Monica Turpin (oc)(older sister to Lisa), Leroy Armstrong (oc)

6th yr: Holly Pierce (oc), Wesley Ford (oc)

7th yr: Lowell Jones (oc)(no relation to Megan)

The Quidditch Captains are:

[R]: Natalia Smith, 6th yr, Chaser (oc)

[G]: Oliver Wood, 4th yr, Keeper

[S]: Marcus Flint, 6th yr, Chaser

[H]: Joshua Turner, 5th yr, Keeper (oc)

Auror ranks go: Junior Auror, Class 3-2-1/Auror, Class 5 Rank 9-1/ Class 4 Rank 9-1/ Class 3 Rank 9-1/ Class 2 Rank 9-1/ Class 1 Rank 9-1/ Senior Auror/ Master Auror/ Head Auror

I think I stole the 5 class/9 rank thing, but it was in Lostfanfiction so I don't really care. The Senior Aurors are those from the books (Shacklebolt, Dawlish, Williamson, Savage, Proudfoot(I think he's in the books)) plus a few OC's. The only current Master Auror is Gawain Robards. Moody has that classification, but is retired. Scrimgeour is Head Auror. Charlus Potter was a Class 1, Rank 7 when he died.

Next chapter will be either early or late because I'm going to Idaho for a wedding this weekend.


	6. Complications

Welcome to chapter six everyone. Sorry it's a little rushed and late. You know how some chapters just seem to write themselves? Yeah, this was not one of those times. This chapter contains one of those clichés, but hopefully with a twist.

If you like long chapters, than you're welcome. If you don't, well, sorry.

I am waaaaay too tired at the moment to read through this, but I wanna post it now. So point it out if there are any grammar or spelling flaws, or it seems something is missing. I don't always write in chronological order, and it would be bad if a huge chunk was missing off one of the sections.

I realized that it's my story and I'm not getting any profit outta this, so you'll get an update when I'm good and ready, dammit! (cough next week cough)

There is no possible way to make everyone happy in regards to Hermione, so I'm going exactly how I had originally planned. Both the Hermionians and Mione-haters will be happy and angry with me at different parts of the story. So you all just need to get over it.

I would like to thank **sh8ad8ow** for mentioning Helena, since I meant to include a scene or two with her in the last chapter, and honestly can't believe I forgot. Especially since that was one of the main concepts I came up with when I first thought of this story. So thanks.

There's some more of that theory and stuff you people love to complain about, so feel free to skip that if you must.

And as always, thank you to all you people out there in review land. I'm glad everyone seems to be liking it thus far. Sorry if I didn't reply, I will in the future. I used to think I'd write with or without reviews, but it helps A LOT to not go quiet on this for another 4 months. (haha…ha…hahaha….ha…)

Hi, my name is Jo, and, uh, this is all mine, so pay up….haha NOT! I'm not even British. Or a woman. Just a broke teenager from the States thankful that JKR isn't on the list of authors you can't write from. Now, back to the eleven year olds with magical powers and unrealistically large vocabularies!

**Ch. 6: Complications**

As October rolled into November, the fall season was in full swing and the weather got colder.

It would seem that the incident with the Troll was now firmly behind him, if he were to discount the fact that Hermione Granger was still following him around like a lost puppy. No one had spoken directly to him about the rumors/facts of the incident, and literally the only response was a letter from Sirius. He had tried to sound stern and serious but had failed miserably, instead coming off proud and boasting. How exactly he had managed to boast _about _Harry _to _Harry, Harry had no idea.

Well, Remus also mentioned it. Ever since that day in Diagon, Remus had started a correspondence with Harry. At first it was all very awkward and meaningless, but they had moved to whatever level was just above that now. Remus was the one who had given him the book on identifying wand woods, having caught on to his interest in the subject. Harry didn't trust adults, or anyone really, not bearing the name Sirius Black; and he had to admit, if only to himself, that it gave him some sort of vindictive pleasure to see Remus squirming guiltily in Harry's presence, but the man was trying, and that was the point.

But it looked like the school was moving on, and was going to forget about it. Harry should have known better. He had caught the attention of certain parties that night, the results of which became known later that month.

-.x.**X**.x.-

The day started as normally as any other. It was Saturday morning, and the castle was bathed in a lazy atmosphere. The majority of Hogwarts' residents were still in bed, trying to drain every last minute of extra sleep from the weekend that they could. Harry Potter could be found in his room, wide awake and with his hair still wet from the shower, staring intently at his wardrobe laid out in front of him on his bed.

Today Harry was working on enchanting his possessions; well, it wasn't true Enchantment of course, but for those arts still beyond him, Harry could nearly always accomplish the next best thing. He had a small system set up that was working quite well. A small platinum needle and a spool of Unicorn hair thread was floating next to him, the animation much less annoying than Ollivander's tape measure. With no one else but the Groundskeeper to capitalize on it, it had been ridiculously easy to collect the hair from where it had snagged on branches during his walks through the forest.

The simple animation was no trouble, they were something of a specialty of Harry's. Helena had had him begin working them when he was nine. It was an old teaching method, ingenious in its simplicity and efficiency, that had for some reason fallen out of practice like so many others. The idea was to introduce an advanced or complex concept in a controlled, simplistic facet. Commonly for animation, it was the dish washing spell. Not only was it easy to make lightweight objects do what they were designed for, but it was viewed by many as a common household spell, meaning there was no mental block saying it was too advanced for children. And it made the path to animating an army of stone soldiers to march to war much later so very much easier. It came back to the idea that all magic was interconnected, and there were plenty of techniques like this that used to be in common practice. The daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, who had spent nearly a thousand years in a magical school, knew them all.

He was working on his robes at the moment, so after he cast the spells successfully, the animated needle would move in and sow runes into the lining and inseams to lock the magic into place, much like he had done with his room.

Ah, Runes. Harry was somewhat indignant that they were an elective class not started until third year, and as theory only at that. He felt that it should be a core class at the least, with perhaps theoretical study started even earlier. Runic magic was one of the least understood and employed areas of magic in England. And yet, it was also one of the most extensive, powerful, and diverse all throughout history and in all corners of the globe. So many things could be accomplished with the use of runes, and they were fundamental in many other fields, such as warding, ritual, spell creation, and blood magic, among others. Ever since the Romans had adopted the Greek method of casting with wands and spread it around the western world, the use of runes had dwindled. It wasn't that wands were in any way new, they just weren't used exclusively until some Emperor or other took a liking to them. Neither method was inferior to the other, they had different strengths and both deserved to be mastered in Harry's mind.

Anyway, Harry had already had what he felt was a very productive morning. He had managed to expand his pockets, charm the hoods on a select number of them to cast a shadow over his face, and weave in a light aversion charm. Not enough to walk a crowd unnoticed, but enough that it would be very uncomfortable for a person to stare at him. Subtlety, thy name is Harry. For the time being anyway. Now, however, Harry focused his absolute attention on the plain black school robe laying before him. He had time for one more before breakfast, and it was by far the most important. This one would make his robes billow like Snape's.

Say what you will about the man, but his billowy robes were badass.

Readying his wand for the slow loopy movement Harry took a deep breath, his concentration at its peak. Finally as ready as he was likely to get, Harry inhaled and prepared to speak.

"HEY HADRIAN! What's that you're working on?"

"AAARRRGGGHHH!" Harry screamed, toppling melodramatically off of his chair and crashing headlong into his desk.

Looking up, he glared at Helena, who was smirking for all of a second before her face clouded back over into her mask of aloof despair. His glare became even more pronounced when he observed the scorch mark on the wall directly behind her head, where his instinctive spell had sailed right through her.

Floating over, Helena examined the robes he was working on with a keen opaque eye. She nodded approvingly, both glad that someone was acting independently like the wizards of old and at the quality of his spell work.

Turning to Harry, she got down to the reason of her visit. "Why haven't you come to visit me, Harry?" She asked sadly. "Neither for a lesson nor a talk; I haven't seen a single hair of you since the beginning of term. Has my usefulness run its course? Now that you've got what you wanted from me, will you leave like all the others?"

Harry's glare softened when he realized she spoke the truth. Feeling a curious twinge of guilt, Harry opened his expression as much as he could, begging her to read the truthfulness of his words. "I am terribly sorry milady. What with everything… Excuses are meaningless, I know. I cannot change the past, only the future. And the future starts with the present. So, hover with me awhile. Let us speak." Talking to the 900 year old ghost like this always got to her, especially the things about the past and future. Indeed, she was already fighting a giggle, and moved to float in front of him.

"You do know that it would be no difficult matter to haunt you for eternity." She warned threateningly.

Not missing a beat, Harry replied theatrically, "Ah, my dear Helena, I do believe you need to work on your threats. Being in your company until the end of days would be the greatest boon I could have granted to me. Why, even were I to be at peace when I am released from this mortal coil, I may linger still, if only to wander these lonely halls by your side until The End, however it may come about."

This time she clearly let slip a small but radiant smile, which lit up her beautiful face. She said nothing, but she was happy. Harry was glad he was able to get her to smile, as it was no easy feat. The Baron was right to love her. She didn't deserve the hand fate had dealt her. Harry may only be eleven, but he knew without a doubt that Helena Ravenclaw was a hell of a woman, the kind that only came around every once in a great magical while.

-.x.**X**.x.-

45 minutes later, Harry walked into the Great Hall and sat down next to Lisa across from Padma and Terry Boot. Harry didn't know the guy that well, but he was friends with Padma. The girls looked at him inquiringly, as he usually wasn't one to be late to breakfast. Harry just smiled at the roommates and began piling food on his plate. It didn't really matter, as it was a weekend and there would be food out pretty much all day. They shrugged and let it go. It wasn't exactly a secret that he got on well with the Ravenclaw house ghost, so Harry didn't know why he was reluctant to share about her, he just was.

They talked as Harry ate, discussing their plans for the day. Lisa and Padma were planning on going to check out the charms club, which was open to new members today in about twenty minutes. Both were interested in the subject and very gifted, and wanted a way to meet people from the other houses. Harry thought about it, but decided not to. Charms was his subject hands down, and he honestly loved them. It had amused Flitwick when Harry had stayed after to animatedly talk about O.W.L. level material with the talented half-goblin, to the careless disregard of the history lesson he was supposed to be attending. The professor seemed to appreciate his honesty though, and was happy to indulge his best and brightest. The man was equally taken-aback and thrilled at how advanced Harry was, and how he did all he could to indulge his natural talent. And besides, Harry practiced every day with both stuff he already knew, and trying out new things. The club would be a waste of time.

"Well, it could still be fun." Padma trailed off, trying to get Harry to come with them.

"Yeah, come on Harry. Come with us. You're amazing with charms." Lisa pleaded, giving him a cute pout with her lower lip stuck out and her long eyelashes batting. Harry laughed, shaking his head.

"Sorry. I got places to be, things to do."

"Oh fine." She relented, "I guess we'll see you later then. Bye Harry."

Harry waved. "See you guys later."

Harry sat and ate quietly for a few moments. He really needed to send replies to Sirius and Remus. He wouldn't be seeing Blaise or the others until that evening, so he could go do that right now. Maybe he could go out to the grounds to write them, enjoy the cold weather. He had always loved the cold; the clear air and bone-chilling winds of the fall, the snowfall in the winter, and most of all the rainy season when the air was moist and chill, the rain hard, and the sky perpetually dark. It made him jubilantly happy for some reason.

He was brought out of his thoughts when a shadow passed over him, and Hermione Granger sat across from him, smiling hesitantly. She was obviously nervous about sitting at another table. "Hi Harry." She greeted softly. Harry hadn't exactly reacted one way or another to her attention since the Troll, and he knew it was time to stop being a jerk. She had been nothing but nice to him since that night, and he knew she didn't have any other friends. Time to see what became of this.

"Good morning Hermione." He responded flashing her a small smile, "How is your weekend going so far?"

Hermione beamed at him, stopped ringing her hands and perked up at his words. "Great, thanks. It's nice to have a break from all the homework for once." She admitted with a blush.

Harry laughed and nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. "It won't always be so bad. We wouldn't usually have so much on so simple of things if there weren't people in the year who genuinely need it. So it always depends on the class, how the material moves the first two years."

Hermione ducked her head, blushing again. It seemed to be a habit with the smart Gryffindor. "Oh, I am most definitely not talking about you." He assured her. "I'm talking more Weasley, Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode, and even that Finch-Fletchy kid. With the exception of the last, it's all purebloods." Harry told her knowingly.

"But with the exception of you, so are all the top students!" She burst out suddenly, frustrated and indignant.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That is because of a number of reasons. One is that they grew up with magic, so the pureblood families taught them a little something so they wouldn't be unprepared. Second, for a lot of traditional English purebloods, Hogwarts will be the extent of their education, and it is expected of them to get good grades. They are raised with this mentality and so they have a lot more pressure on them than most of the others. Third, the muggleborn such as yourself are still new to our world, of course you're not going to just come in and be the best." From the look on her face Harry could tell she had expected exactly that. "Look, for our year, purebloods are the majority. So statistically speaking, of course they are going to be in the bottom, middle, and top. In our year there are 20 purebloods of varying degrees, 12 halfbloods like myself, and only 5 muggleborn. You are by far the highest ranked, the next being Dean about halfway down the list. It will change in time because you are very bright, but if you want something you can't just moan about the unfairness of life and expect it to fall into your lap. You have to go get it, work for it."

Hermione stared at him after his little speech, her mouth slightly open. "I'm sorry, it's just…I've always been the top student at my school, and I've never had…well, any friends." She looked down and blushed. "I guess I just figured it'd be the same here, that wizarding children were still children and _mean_." She was sniffling a little bit now, looking at him with bright eyes. "And then I met that Nott boy, and he called me a, well, a…"

"He didn't." Harry interrupted her stuttering with a hard voice, eyes demanding the truth.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded quickly, looking around.

"Nott will be dealt with." Harry stated in a deadly calm voice. Oh, yes he would be.

Hermione stared at him with wide, alarmed eyes. "Wait, no! I-I don't want to cause any problems, I-"

"Hermione. You're my friend now, and that's not ok. They need to learn that."

She was blushing yet again, at a loss for what to say. "Come on," he said, standing up. "I've got a few letters to write, and then we have the whole day to do whatever you want."

"Ok."

They left the hall, and Harry led them outside, to the bridge. Hermione looked at him like he was crazy.

"What, I like the cold." Harry said with a grin. Waving his wand, he transfigured Hermione's cloak into a large fluffy insulated version that was extremely soft. He had done this for Hannah the other day and it had been a big hit with the girls.

"Wow," breathed Hermione, "You're just really good at everything, aren't you? Transfiguration is my favorite subject."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I just love how you can change anything around you into something new; it's like living in your own little sphere of reality, where you can make it however you like." She started gushing about the merits of transfiguration, and Harry could tell she was being sincere in her love for it. It wasn't just that she was good at it, she loved the magic of it. '_There may be hope for her yet._'

They took a seat on the bridge connecting two towers, looking out over the grounds where the wind could catch them quite pleasantly, in Harry's opinion. Legs dangling over the edge, Harry pulled out some parchment and a quill and began to think on what to write, while Hermione gripped the railing in a vice and looked anywhere but down.

"Not too fond of heights, huh?"

She mumbled something under her breath, looking around at him with a glare. "Not at all. I was sooo relieved when they told us we could switch out of Flying." Looking around she sighed and visibly forced herself to relax.

"So at breakfast, what did you mean when you said Hogwarts would be the extent of _most_ students' education? Does that mean there are universities too?"

Harry sighed and shook his head, disappointed once again in his country. "Hermione, the magical world doesn't end at the borders of the United Kingdom. It'd be pretty sad if it did. Each country, to say nothing of the numerous tribes and different magical races and such all over the world, practices magic in their own ways and styles. There are many options available to those willing to find them."

He could tell this really interested her, and would bet she'd be combing the library for any information she could find later. Propping up his parchment, Harry started jotting a few lines to Remus.

"Who are you writing to?"

"My godfather. And Casey's too, actually." It was weird to think of Remus like that, but it was true. Harry wondered how close Casey and Remus actually were.

"Not your parents?" She pressed.

Harry couldn't help but tense. "No." He answered sharply, a hint of warning in his voice. Harry could see the curiosity, and also a measure of stubbornness. Harry, however, was not one you bullied things out of. "Don't ask." Hopefully she'd get the hint and back off. It all came back to getting her to _think_, not read and listen. She could obviously relate, just instead of Harry's distrust for adults, she was wary of children.

Hermione cast about for something to change the subject. "Do you have a godmother?"

Harry looked at her, judging her. She seemed to have handled the death of the Troll well enough. "You need to keep this private, understand. It's not your story to tell, nor is it mine." She nodded quickly. "My godmother is Alice Longbottom, Neville's mum. She, along with her husband, are residing in the St. Mungo's Long Term Care Ward. They were tortured to insanity at the end of the last war. Casey's was a woman named Dorcas Meadows, killed a few months before that. I think Molly Weasley has pretty much stepped in for him, but it's not official." Harry explained quietly.

Hermione gasped, hand going to her mouth. "I think…" she said after a heartbeat, "that I'm going to stop asking questions for now."

-.x.**X**.x.-

Later on that day the two were in the library, talking about charms. They had hung out all morning, telling each other little bits about themselves in the process. Hermione had just asked Harry about the spells they were working on in Charms; one was to turn ink invisible, and the other to reveal it. She was apparently having a bit of trouble with them.

Harry was off in his own little world, contemplating. He didn't even know why, exactly. On one hand, it was no big deal and Harry didn't mind. Hell, he did it for the others all the time. On the other, she was now doing to him exactly what she had commiserated a mere moment ago others doing to her. She had said it prevented her making friends. If so, did that mean that she wasn't seeking friendship? It sure seemed like she was. Maybe she just couldn't see what she was doing. That was pretty hypocritical and self-centered. No, that wasn't entirely fair, Harry reminded himself. From what he had gathered, she had led a very sheltered life thus far, with loving but uncomprehending parents. She probably just couldn't grasp social nuances yet. Books were one thing, real life was another. But on top of everything, she seemed honest and a nice enough person. Yes, Harry would give her a chance.

"I- you know what, that'd be fine. Here, I'll just show you now."

"Oh, well, darn. Hold on, let me go get my wand." She moved to run out of the library.

"Wait, what do you mean? Where is it now?" Harry asked perplexed.

"In my dorm. You know we don't have any classes today, so I didn't see the point in carrying it around all day for no reason. I'll be right back." And with that she hurried off.

Harry stared blankly after her, uncomprehending. How could you leave your wand laying around somewhere just because you had no class, when it was a part of you? Harry knew he would feel more naked walking around without his wands than if he were to go out starkers, but with them strapped in their holsters.

Suddenly it hit Harry. Because it wasn't, not to her. To the muggleborn students, magic was a commodity, a novelty. To Harry, or Blaise, or hell even for his brother or Draco bloody Malfoy, magic was an intrinsic and integral part of themselves, their birthright, their way of life.

The two truly were from different worlds.

Harry sighed. He couldn't bring Hermione into the group, at least not yet. She was far too judgmental and abrasive, not to mention too loud with her misunderstood opinions.

But he had made the commitment to befriend her, at least to himself. And besides, there was no denying that Hermione Granger was an intelligent young woman, who could be quite engaging conversation when she relaxed. She was pretty too, when she wasn't looking down her nose at you to cover her insecurities about her hair and teeth. Maybe Harry could help her. Be someone for her to count on, to get her to mellow out. Be there to patiently explain about the magical world, and how a wizard-raised person saw things differently, and get her to think on her own about it. Bring her out of her shell.

He would start with the wand, Harry thought exasperatedly, settling down to wait for her.

-.x.**X**.x.-

"So I saw you with Granger today." Blaise said with a raised eyebrow as he stared at his notes and frowned when they started flashing neon green instead of vanishing. Harry snorted and flicked his wand yet again to return the ink to normal. This was getting ridiculous.

"Yeah, you know she's been tailing me since Samhain. Figure I'll give her a chance, get to know her. Ok, seriously! Why is everyone having so much trouble with this? It's not like it's complicated. A counter-clockwise swirl. The word 'Abda'. The ink vanishes. That's it. Maybe we should write this one down though, it's pretty cool." Harry laughed as Blaise looked forlornly at his latest attempt. His notes had completely broken down, each letter gaining a life of its own. They had all formed two sides and were starting a game of Scrabble.

"Well not everyone is you! It's not like- you know what, just shut up, Harry." Blaise gave up when Harry could no longer control his snickers.

"No, no, no, we can do this." Harry said with a wide grin. Not only did he want to help his friend get it _eventually_, but he didn't want to miss whatever else Blaise managed to do before he finally got it right. It promised to be…entertaining.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Two hours later, Harry walked into his room and paused. He stood absolutely still for nearly a whole minute, eyes scanning every inch of the room he could see. Finally, Harry stepped fully in and shut the door, not looking away from the room. Something was wrong.

Pulling out his holly wand Harry released an expanding bluish-white pulse of magic that swiftly traveled the distance to the far wall. Around his bed on the floor a glowing red runic circle of some kind flared to life. Harry frowned and moved towards it cautiously. There seemed to be some kind of star over the circle with sporadic runes in what looked vaguely Dwarven.

This was troubling. Harry could just feel in the air and magic that something was off when he walked in. Obviously this was some sort of trap. But what was the purpose? And why? Well, never mind the why, he would worry about that after he figured out what the hell this was and what to do about it.

Harry stared at it, examining the array for anything he could recognize. The way the star pointed outwards only to be barred by the circle hinted at a…containment of some kind? But then again, the circle could be more benign and meant to keep something out. So what did the star represent?

It was no good, Harry didn't know. Growling, Harry checked the time. 7:13 pm. This needed to be dealt with immediately. First, identify it. Second, consider options of actions to take either way. Third, take one of those actions. When he got back, he would have to check the protections on his room, and how whoever got through succeeded. Thinking of something he should have already done, Harry swept the room with a detection charm for monitoring charms. He found none beyond the standard Emergency routed to his head of house and the nurse, and the old Hogwarts detection ward for inherently dark artifacts which was on a relatively low setting. However, a few of the strange runes on the inflamed trap shone brighter. So whoever had set this couldn't set anything without setting off or changing the magic Harry had cast, but would feel it when the thing activated. Harry could work with that.

Taking no chances, Harry switched wands and tapped himself on the head, murmuring, "Abscondo." After the trickling feeling abated Harry quickly moved his now disillusioned form to his office corner, jabbing a rune under his desk to put his room into lockdown. Not wasting another second, Harry swept silently from the room, returning more and more to the dangerous neglected boy that thrived in the shadows with each breath he took.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Luckily, Harry had long since perfected a spell that searched large droves of books for the information you were seeking. Standing before the gate invisible to the few students still here, Harry thought of the image and feel of the runic circle, and all that he suspected of it.

Whispering the spell, he guided it into the Restricted Section. There were a few light pings in return. Harry bit his lip. He could try to break in. But would it be worth it? There was no guarantee he would find any valuable information, as the spell didn't get any particularly strong response. It looked like he would have to sneak out and pay a visit to the Black Library. He could ask Phineas if the coast was clear. Or he could just ask Phineas! He was bound to know! But wait, he would be in the Headmaster's office, a no go then. How to get out…..maybe Helena would have a suggestion. Helena! If anyone would know, she would for sure. But who knows where she was this late, and Harry needed to know now. Sigh. To Grimmauld Place.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry slipped onto the grounds as undetectable as a wraith, hurrying towards the tree in the distance swirling about lazily. '_Tempus._' 8:07 pm. Now faintly jogging across the grounds, Harry felt the water from the grass soaking through his shoes, and got an idea. '_Impervius._' Over his person ensured he would stay dry. Then, he altered the moisture-draining spell he had taught Blaise to draw all the water to him, but remain pooled beneath him, and slid down the hill gaining speed the whole way. Were the situation not so dire, Harry would have thought this was a lot of fun.

'_Pingo._' The paintball spell hit the knot dead center, and Harry slid directly into the passage beneath the Whomping Willow. Harry fleetingly reflected that dire situations seemed to make him more athletic and acrobatic. Thankful for the cushioning charm he had wrapped around himself, Harry set off at a brisk pace down the damp foreboding cave.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Coming up in the dusty dining room in the Shrieking Shack, Harry headed not out, but down. Making his way quickly to the other end of the dilapidated basement, Harry shut himself in the filthy, closed in laundry room. Letting out a huff, Harry intoned aloud in a solemn voice, "I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up to No Good."

At his pronouncement one of the rickety walls faded away to reveal a muggle washing machine, the condition of which was consistent with the rest of the house. Putting the tip of his wand where the main dial used to be, Harry said, "Mr. Padfoot's heir requests transport to the Place of Grim."

There was a flash and a tingling of magic rushed up his wand and through his body before returning down his arm into the device. With an almighty clunk and a cloud of smoke that was purely for dramatic flair, as the thing was magical, the hatch popped open. Harry climbed into the now glowing contraption and stood into it up to his waist. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and giving a long-suffering sigh. Snapping his eyes open again, Harry gave the last command. "Beam me up, Scotty!"

Harry's world exploded in a bright light as he started spinning like a top. After about ten seconds of this the bottom dropped out from under him and he was sucked into a downward spiral.

-.x.**X**.x.-

He was spat out of a showerhead, of all things. But rather than breaking his neck on the edge of a porcelain tub, Harry rolled unceremoniously off a pile of old tattered robes. Finding a door, Harry stumbled out…into Sirius' bedroom. '_Yes,_' Harry thought, his eye twitching, '_Sirius __**would**__ have a shower in his closet._'

There was a pop and a scratchy voice inquired, "Master Hadrian, what is you doin' here?"

Dispelling his pointless disillusionment, Harry straightened up as best he could after such a ride and answered the elf. "Good evening, Kreacher. I've got some research to do. Someone at Hogwarts tried to spring a trap on me in my rooms, and I need to know what it was meant to do."

"Filthy blood traitors and light wizards trying to usurp the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! Kreacher will tear them apart, oh yes he will. Kreacher has never cleaned Master Cygnus' torture chamber; he would like to see filthy traitors deal with the smell of blood as Kreacher plays with their insides, oh yes he would!"

Grinning at the deranged but deliriously loyal snarling elf, Harry couldn't find it in himself to disagree. Maybe it was the House magic agreeing with Kreacher's words? Or even his blood? "I'll be in the library Kreacher. Once I find out what was done we will think of an appropriate response. It's refreshing to see your loyalty."

"Thank you Master, would you like some refreshments? Kreacher can make his soup!"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

"Of course, Master Hadrian. You do the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black proud. Mistress would approve." He moved off to the kitchen sniffling. Harry paused for a moment, wondering how he should treat meeting the approval of Walburga Black. Shaking his head, he viscously pushed those thoughts from his mind, moving to the library.

-.x.**X**.x.-

There were a lot more pings in the Black Library.

It was now already a bit past one in the morning. He hadn't found anything concrete yet, but what he was reading, hinted at something deeply disturbing to Harry. It had his hands shaking and heart pounding, even though he had been at it for about four hours now.

.

Turning the page, Harry jerked up at the picture of what was around his bed. Frantically reading under it, Harry sucked in a breath as he stared at the book in horror. Blood pounded in his ears, and he found that he couldn't look away from the picture, an exact replica of what he had stood not six inches from earlier this night. It seemed more malicious, now that he knew what it did.

'_He-but-no._' But yes, there it was in plain, modern English. It had the nerve to not even be in Latin. It was a block for one's magical core. A particularly vile one that was especially responsive to the caster, would eventually become permanent, and was relatively easy to set up and not be in the room at the time of effect. Someone tried to bind his magic. On the grave of Morgan herself, if he ever found out who did this…Wait. '_Calm down Harry, you need to be calm to think rationally._' Easier said then done, however. All Harry could think of was how close he had come to irrevocable mediocrity. There were curses that Harry knew of, perhaps he should move up his dark arts training? At the moment all he could think of was his faceless enemy having his blood turned to ice, or his intestines ripped from his body and used to asphyxiate him…Whoa, time out. Harry needed some air.

He left the library where he had been pacing and headed for the rooftop garden. He sat amongst the flowers staring off over London, and finally felt a measure of peace return. It was obvious to him now. Dumbledore had the behind the scenes authority to get away with anything these days. And he obviously had plans for Casey, seeing Harry handle the Troll must have alarmed him. There were so very many points Dumbledore had just missed in one fell moment, that he couldn't possibly understand. This little plot, it was done with a casualness, as though no repercussions could possibly touch him, and complete negligence to long term consequences. As though robbing Harry of his magic, the very thing that made him worth anything, was worthy of no more consideration than whether or not to take out the garbage.

Well, Dumbledore had made an extremely dangerous enemy for what remained of his life. There was no way he could possibly comprehend how badly he had screwed up. Stealing his magic, to Harry this was…..was like rape, like pissing in something Holy. Dumbledore could have done anything, had him followed, plundered his vaults, killed his familiar, anything would have paled in comparison to this. Magic was _everything_ to Harry, it was all he had, and it was all that he was. It was as though Dumbledore had tried to chain his very essence.

Staring at pale shaking hands, Harry closed his eyes, relishing the feel of his magic buzzing about the balcony, pulsing in angry defiance at the very idea it could be contained. His small form was awash with life as it swept around with a life all its own, affecting the plants and insect life. Giant green leafs swayed in the light breeze, glowing blue patterns swirling lazily across their earthy canvas. Small fairies danced obliviously, delighting in the now playful waves of magic. They were beautiful in their naivety. Harry sighed, letting the moment take him away.

-.x.**X**.x.-

When he finally came back to himself, his magic had settled but still pervaded the balcony in heady droves. Just a thought was enough to twist some of it into a 'Tempus' spell. Reading that it was already well past three in the morning, Harry began making his way back downstairs, deep in thought. He had to think of something to do. If he were to just go on without the block, it would be obvious and Dumbledore would take more forceful measures. But there was no force on this Earth, or below, above, or next to it for that matter, that would get that thing on Harry. Harry hissed out a frustrated curse in Parseltongue. Ok, so what would a Slytherin do? He would twist this to his own advantage and use it to humble his enemies. But how? He needed more information to answer that question, his inner-Ravenclaw decided. Grabbing all the relevant books, Harry began researching magical blocks with a single-minded intensity. He needed to figure this out before the sun rose.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry took the cup of some foreign tea that Kreacher placed under his nose, bringing it closer and inhaling the exotic scent, relaxing. He tried to ignore the ache of his body from staying up all night, the pounding in his head from all he had learned, and the sick feeling in his stomach from what he knew he must do.

Regrettable as it was, Harry was still years away from being able to control his aura and magical presence enough to fly under Dumbledore's radar. It was rapidly approaching five o'clock in the morning, and Harry was no longer willing to delude himself. He had but one option, really.

He had not spent the last two hours going over that evil, vile, heinous…thing, no. He had had quite enough contact with it, thank you very much, and could quite happily stay as far from it as possible for the rest of his life. Rather, he had been pouring over magical blocks and restraints in general, reading of a few that were more…productive. He had found one in particular that suited his needs well enough. This was how he was going to twist the situation to his advantage.

The block that he was about to willingly put on himself worked astronomically differently from the…thing. It would keep Harry's magic contained within himself, tightly compressed in his core. He would have access to a small chunk of his magic to use as he did, and that chunk would never remain static, always revolving and changing. The rest, under the block, would grow exponentially, especially now during his magical puberty until maturation. On top of this, it would force him to work more with a less amount, giving him greater inherent control. So, when he took it off, that aura control he was thinking of earlier would be a breeze. And silent and wandless casting would be another step closer, as would taking the color out of spells. Also, it would train him to use his strengths to his advantage, to be able to win against a stronger opponent. Finally, since it was crafted to be a benefit for the user, it would work kind of like a lint roller in regards to the magic around it. What that meant for Harry was quite simple. He would almost instinctively catalogue and recognize magical signatures of people, objects, and spells around him. The types of magic he worked frequently would be…less resistant to being learned, was a good way to put it. Were he to spend a lot of time in the Hospital Wing, or on a battlefield, then Healing and Battle Magic respectively would come more naturally. And last but not least, magic that would normally be impossible to learn, like oh say…creature magic, would become extremely difficult to learn, but possible.

For instance, the Headmaster had a phoenix. Were Harry to spend a lot of time near it, experiencing its magic, it would theoretically become possible for Harry to develop internal healing and regenerative properties into his genetic makeup. It wouldn't be nearly as potent as a real phoenix, and learning what he could would be about as hard as becoming a Master of Soul Magic, or something like that. But that was more than nearly anyone else could say. '_Yes,_' Harry thought, '_I've maneuvered to gain all that I possibly can out of this, now there's only one thing left to do._'

Sitting in the candlelight in the ritual chamber, Harry figured this would be the best place to do it. Steeling himself, Harry let out a smooth breath, calming his movements. Pointing his wand at his own chest, his face a picture of resolute concentration, Harry started the chant he had just memorized. The tip of his wand shone a steady brilliant white-gold, and Harry could feel it settling in his chest, warm and heavy.

Ten minutes later it was done, and Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that. He already felt almost doubly tired, but it was the best of a bad situation. Casting his umpteenth 'tempus' of the night, Harry gasped at the effort required. This would take some getting used to. Harry was exhausted, and now he had to go back to the castle, and face Sunday. '_Must put on a good show, after all._'

-.x.**X**.x.-

Back in his dorm, the first thing Harry did was go to the cabinet next to his potions setup. Unlocking it via the rune, Harry took out the vial of Pepper-Up that was the largest while still being safe, and added a bit more to it before he downed it.

Now, what to do about the circle. If it wasn't activated, the Headmaster would know. But how to activate it so it would seem as if it worked? Well, it was meant to chain a highly magical being to a small percentage. So, who to throw under the bus, was the unpleasant reality. The answer was obvious. Who, while Harry was an innocent and defenseless child, had stood by and aided James Potter in his torment of Harry, while the others had refused? Gaining a cruel smile, identical to the one he wore when he Bonded the yew wand all those years ago, Harry called sharply, "Ugly!".

Casey's personal elf, so named by the first thing the Boy-Who-Lived said upon being given him at age 4, appeared with a crack, confused. It started to sneer at him, but Harry said nothing as he kicked it over the outline and into the circle.

The elf didn't scream, but gasped hard as the array glowed red like the fires of Hell and leapt upon him, collapsing around the elf as if it was a giant net the elf had run into the middle of. There was a sizzling as it burned its way beneath the skin, and Ugly passed out.

Harry walked over and rolled it over with his foot, smirking. The shadowy companion in his mind, silent since the start of term, was viscously amused and proudly approving. Having gone so long without any response from it, Harry realized with a start that it had been buzzing since he entered his room 10 hours ago. Was it feeding Harry's emotions, or feeding off of them?

'_Doesn't matter._' Harry decided. He changed into his running clothes. He would have to get used to this new weight in his chest, as well as not being able to use nearly as much of his magic, even if he could still feel it all within him.

Oh yes, the elf. "Ennervate." It came to groggily, dazed and confused. Dumbledore wouldn't choose a method where Harry would clearly remember what happened, so the block probably messed with mental facilities as well. Just in case…

"Obliviate." His second piece of N.E.W.T. level magic, even if it was just a complete wipeout of the last few minutes. He wondered how Ugly would deal with this, and how much it would affect him. '_Whatever._' he thought apathetically, twirling the yew wand in his fingers, glad this had worked out. No one was there to see the resemblance to Tom Riddle in that moment, but if they were it would have scared the crap out of them.

"Leave, Ugly."

-.x.**X**.x.-

Narcissa Malfoy nee Black laid back in the lounge chair. She was currently in the Malfoy Manor arboretum, a corner wing made completely of glass six stories high. There were all sorts of trees and plants from all over the world living together, along with a little stream that carried very magical water, winding down throughout all floors feeding each and every one. It coalesced on the ground floor into a natural pool, and it was next to this that Narcissa liked to lounge in the artificial sun, tanning at 7:00 in the morning in the middle of November.

There was no danger of spying neighbors, and so she was able to relax in a bikini. Her long flowing blonde hair fanned out around her shoulders, resting against the swell of her large breasts. Her sun kissed skin was flawless, her body still the vision of female perfection. Every teenage boys wet dream.

She was currently pondering what she had decided was her latest mystery. It even involved her family this time. The boy from the platform, that intriguing young man bearing the Black heir ring, was a Potter. According to her son he was the mysterious twin brother of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Narcissa sighed, thinking of her son for a moment. She had clearly told Draco after the boy, Hadrian _Potter_ had left the platform, to mail her directly after the Sorting with his surname. And here she was getting the information now, 3 months later. She would have to take a more assertive role in his education from now on, lest he turn out like his father, or worse. The Black blood ran through his veins, she would just have to bring it out. What with her situation, however, well. She would do what she could.

But back to Hadrian. Now there was a boy who sparked her curiosity like no other. The connection was obvious - Sirius. His godfather, no doubt. But Sirius no longer got on with the Potters, so how could he have such a tight relationship with Hadrian? Unless the boy was the root of the fallout? She considered, growing more interested still. It was hard to say who had more likelihood to be the heir between him and Draco. Even though Draco's Black blood was maternal, and Narcissa herself was from the secondary line (as the last Lord before Sirius was his father Orion, her uncle), Dorea (Hadrian's grandmother) was the younger sister to Pollux, Draco's great-grandfather. On one hand, Draco's ran through the elder line, but on the other, Hadrian's was a generation closer. Not that it mattered either way now, as the Family Magic had accepted Hadrian as the next heir, but family history had always interested Narcissa.

Anyone could see he was an exemplary candidate. In their brief meeting, the boy had been charming, polite, suave and sneaky. But he had also had a personality to him, goading Lucius like he did. Not only that, but Narcissa would have had to be a squib not to feel the power he held, it was intoxicating. Hadrian Potter sure seemed like he had the whole package: looks, power, cunning, intelligence, sanity. '_Sad that with my family, that is something to look for._' All the portraits that Narcissa could get into contact with had had nothing but good things to say about him, sure that he would bring honor to the house of Black.

That's it. She had to meet him again. She started writing the letter in her head, wondering what kind of feel it should have to it, to invite him over the Solstice holidays. '_At least for dinner._' She wondered if it would be that easy. From what Draco said, he couldn't get a read on the boy, Hadrian Potter was an enigma. She weighed how much that spoke of Draco's mental facilities. Top student in nearly every subject, and athletic, but not arrogant about either. '_Still no pushover…_' she read, wondering what that meant. Rumors he had killed a Troll, and kept company from every house, mostly female. She smirked at that. Like Godfather, like Godson. Closest male friends Blaise Zabini, neutral Slytherin pureblood, and Dean Thomas, a Gryffindor muggleborn. Yes, she would have him here and in her sights as soon as possible.

The only things she knew for sure was that he was a _Potter_, and that he was like no Potter she had ever met before. He piqued her curiosity in such a delightful way. She wanted nothing more than to figure him out.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Sunday November 17th, 1991 dawned cold and dreary. Most of the few people up for breakfast were still half asleep, wondering how exactly they had managed to get from their beds to the Hall, and hastily pouring something hot into their mugs.

One wrinkly old codger by the name of Albus Percival Wulfric Brain Dumbledore was tapping his foot impatiently, filled to the beard with anticipation. He hadn't felt the trap spring into place until just short of two hours ago, and he wanted to be sure it held. He had expected to feel it last night, and had paced with nervous energy all night. Of course, young Ravenclaws were notorious for getting caught up in some book all night and falling asleep in a random armchair, which would fit with Hadrian returning to his rooms at around five this morning, but he had to be sure.

It was regrettable that this was necessary, but since when did necessity coincide with convenience. It was for the Greater Good. That saying both comforted and sickened him, so he settled for saying it only in his mind.

If Harry Potter could have heard Albus Dumbledore call his magic a "convenience", his Greater Good would likely be a smoldering ruin, cooling right next to Dumbledore's corpse.

There! The boy strode through the doors with tense shoulders and a commanding stride. He avoided looking towards the head table, but even from here, Dumbledore could tell it had worked. He could no longer feel the boys magic whipping around him. Dumbledore relaxed, content. Casey's twin was startlingly intelligent, but the mental dregs in the block should ease his suspicions. There was one thing taken care of, at the least. Now, if _his_ Potter could only hurry up and find the Mirror, he could set the final trap.

-.x.**X**.x.-

"Nothing! We've looked _everywhere_, and there's no bloody mention of Nicholas Flamel _anywhere_!" Casey moaned, throwing up his hands inn frustration.

"I know mate, but with the way Hagrid ran off, he has to be important. Enough to warrant that huge bloody three headed dog. Oh, I'm sorry. _Fluffy_." Ron Weasley replied, shuddering at the apparent memory.

"Maybe we should ask Granger."

"Are you crazy? After Halloween? She's liable to kill us. Or more like get her new friend to do it for her." Ron answered cautiously.

"What, Harry? Please. Harry's just a fake who's playing his cards right. Sooner or later, it'll come out how worthless he is." Came the arrogant reply.

"Uh, Casey, you do realize that they're friends because you teased her into the path of a _Mountain Troll_, and your brother _killed it_. You know, your brother, the scary best student in school?"

"You don't know him like I do. Come on, let's see if Madam Pince knows who Flamel is."

"Uhuh…."

Ron followed Casey away doubtfully, but didn't push it. A few moments after they had left, Harry stepped out from behind the bookcase, one eyebrow raised as he slowly shut the small book on copyright spells commonly used on school libraries.

Harry had been enjoying the irony of the library carrying this book when the two had started talking on the other side of the shelf.

He had originally meant to stay out of whatever was going on, but after last night… Well, perhaps it was time to take a look at the mystery going on. He took a seat and looked out the window in thought.

Ok, what did he know for sure?

The where: obviously the Third Floor Corridor of Imminent Doom.

The who: the Puppeteer, his brother, the Groundskeeper Hagrid, and Nicholas Flamel. '_Oh, and Snape and Quirrel, just to be safe._' He added, thinking of crimson-tinted eyes and limping Potions Masters.

The what: Gringott's attempted theft, an apparent Cerberus (that Harry had to see for himself - it was worth the risk), and…the fabled Philosopher's Stone.

The why: '_Hmm._' Well now, that was the question, wasn't it?

Harry desperately needed sleep, but didn't know when he'd be able to get away. As the holidays approached, the classes were about to get busy. And though he had kept a clear barrier between himself and his friends, they were still bound to notice. They wouldn't question, but they would wonder. Disappearing for slightly longer one time was a lot more inconspicuous than disappearing regularly.

Tonight it was, then.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry watched the stone staircase swivel away from him, leaving him with a gaping chasm at his back and a single door before him.

Wand out, silencing and unlocking charms cast, Harry stepped through, draped in a silencing bubble, a disillusionment charm, a scent masking charm, and a light notice-me-not ward. Let's just say he had noticed the effort to cast them, and leave it at that, unpleasant memories of bound cores notwithstanding.

The corridor Harry entered was suitably creepy and Harry found himself nodding in approval. What? At Hogwarts, places with the word "Forbidden" attached tended to live up to par. Dust, cobwebs reaching the ceiling hung from deformed statues, and eerily silent darkness abound.

The door at the end, by one such statue, held the Cerberus, Harry was sure. There was no locking beyond a standard 'Colloportus.", but there _was_ a slew of monitoring and alert wards.

Deciding to start elsewhere, Harry walked through a random door and into an old classroom. And so it began, going from old abandoned room to old abandoned room. These parts of Hogwarts were always interesting, but if whatever it was, was going to go down here, anything of interest would most likely have been removed.

(fifteen minutes later)

Harry walked through to the next room, harshly suppressing his coughs as this one too was covered in dust. Except for the corner, where it had been wiped clear in seemingly random streaks on the floor and wall, he noted suddenly cautious. And the moment Harry stiffened, gripping his wand tighter and scanning around, a shadowy mass about the size of a medium sized wolf sprang out of the darkness and barreled into Harry.

Quickly untangling himself and standing, away from the sharp fangs looking to close around his neck, Harry reflected that he was ending up on the floor far too often as of late. But back to the present, Harry swished his wand, bathing the room in a dull light. Raising his wand to send a cutting curse at what ever had attacked him, Harry paused once his brain caught up with his eyes. Harry counted eight legs, two tails, and six heads. Not only were there two of them, but they were significantly smaller than Harry had been led to believe. '_Pups, then. Where is the mother? Or perhaps the father?_' Harry thought with sudden comprehension. Looking at the baby Cerberuses, Harry saw that they were just sitting there staring at him, their tails wagging. '_They were only playing._'

They were actually kind of….well, cute. Harry thought maybe the Groundskeeper wasn't as insane as he first thought. The first one was sitting there, peering at Harry curiously with intelligent eyes. It was darker, a kind of gray-brown. It's faces were slightly more angular than the other, and its ears more pointed. It looked more wolfish. The other, the one who had pounced on Harry like he was a gazelle, was jumping up and down and running in circles, his tongue lolling out as he looked to be contemplating another jump. Harry watched that one warily. He didn't much fancy further acquaintance with the ground. This once was a solid brown, and looked more similar to a dog.

Considering for a moment what to do, Harry kept eye contact and slowly lowered himself to sit _voluntarily_ on the ground with his legs crossed, extending his arm a little to the calm one and waiting patiently. Ever so slowly, it inched its way forward. When it was close enough, it tentatively sniffed Harry's fingers before giving them a lick. And with that, the hyperactive one bounded over, licking Harry's face. It seemed to have been waiting for the other one's approval.

Harry gave a quiet laugh, petting them with varying degrees of roughness and thought over what he had found out. Somehow, the guardian Hagrid had brought in had brought pups with it, both boys as Harry now noted. Obviously, this was not their natural habitat, and Harry wondered how this affected them. Standing, with the two still circling and jumping on him, Harry made his way over to a low arch to see what was on the other side.

He was stopped cold in his tracks, being met with six unblinking luminous yellow eyes the size of his head.

'_Oh. Well. Shite._' A Troll was one thing. A 25-feet tall protective Cerberus was another entirely. Harry wondered if this whole magical creature thing was going to become a pattern. Well, crap, now he'd jinxed it. The big one, _Fluffy_ as Harry had overheard, stepped forward, allowing moonlight from the high window (good old Hagrid) to spill through and illuminate the creature in all its terrifying snarling glory. Deciding to exercise the smarter side of valor, Harry prepared to book it out of there as fast as was wizardly possible.

'…_Yeah, not gonna happen. __**Brilliant**__ short-lived plan there Harry._' Fluffy was now blocking the arch and the door, and the other door would set off the Puppeteer's alarms. The window it was. If Harry survived this, he was _sooo_ bragging to Sirius about it later.

Before he could move, though, Fluffy let out a strange kind of growl-bark-whine. And something in it made Harry pause, a move that should have seen him eaten. Instead, Fluffy settled down on his haunches, laying flat on his stomach, and stared at Harry with all of his eyes, ignoring his pups who were still playing. They had good reason not to be worried, Harry thought, '_Not when daddy over here has the intruder cornered._'

Fluffy looked at his pups, then back at Harry. Then back to his pups, and back to Harry. Finally making more eye contact than Harry had ever made before. Harry wasn't sure how long he was stared down by a guardian of the Underworld, but he didn't dare blink or make any move that could vaguely be misconstrued as threatening. Finally, after an indeterminable length of time, Fluffy snorted, the gust of wind buffeting Harry into the nearby wall, and motioned with his head towards the pups.

Harry tilted his head, but as he looked into Fluffy's eyes, he suddenly understood. He didn't know if it was something mental that Fluffy did, or just a flash of insight, but Harry understood what the Cerberus wanted. The pups were young, much younger than Harry first thought, judging by the size of Fluffy. They needed to grow, run and be free. A dreary abandoned wing of a castle with nothing to hunt was not an environment they could survive.

It saddened him that he wouldn't be able to be near them, to raise them, but Fluffy obviously wasn't about to abandon his guard duty. A Cerberus would take that very seriously. But it was what was best for his pups. Harry was what was best for his pups. It hit him then that he was being entrusted with his children, no small privilege and responsibility.

"I'll take good care of them." Harry spoke somberly. "We'll stay near, near enough that you'll feel them close by. I will protect them." He didn't know if this was pointless or not, but Fluffy seemed to understand. He nudged them towards Harry with his middle head, and they went, yipping.

-.x.**X**.x.-

There was a lot more to life, Harry decided, than the number 42. The surprises in particular were getting a tad bit out of hand. If they could just hold off until, say, after Yule? That would be fantastic.

He hadn't slept since Friday night. '_Circe, last week seems so far away._' He was currently trekking through the Dark Forest in the middle of the night, accompanied by two baby Cerberuses and a floating ball of light. The light he needed in order to see, even though he was positive it was drawing the forest's nighttime inhabitants to him quite effectively. The Cerberuses, well, they were the reason he was out here in the first place.

Any lodging Harry could find them in the forest would be temporary. They would grow, and grow quickly what with how Harry's luck was holding up. He would need to make a weekend trip eventually out into the Scottish highlands to build a more permanent paddock or something. For now though, a small cave system was the order of the night. Unfortunately, caves were not located near the borders of the forest, and Harry wasn't about to throw the pups in some Dagobah Dark-Side hole.

Apparently just like he became more acrobatic in dire situations, Harry had a tendency to reference muggle movies when he was tired.

Harry was coiled tighter than a spring, wide eyes jumping from root to vine and every flicker in between. It was a narrow path to cut a swath between the Acromantulas and the Centaurs. It was a big bloody forest; why they had to live so closely together, Harry had no idea. And it was bloody freezing out here. Harry loved the cold, but it had to be below 30.

-.x.**X**.x.-

It was around two when Harry had them settled in a suitable place. It was a bit beyond anything he had explored yet, but you could be sure the surrounding area would be where he'd be taking his runs for the foreseeable future. It was an excellent way to learn the ins and outs of a place.

Sitting on a rock, Harry decided that when he made his map of Hogwarts, his would include the forest. The Marauders focused only on the interior, but there was so much more. The place he had found was more a bump in the earth with tunnels than anything, it was like a Hobbit home actually. He would label this "Bag End" on the map. Snickering, he made a conscious decision to lay off on the muggle fiction references. There was a small pond nearby housing nothing too terribly dangerous, and the forest was sufficiently spread out here. They'd be fine. Pups they may be, they were still _Cerberus_ pups.

It really was a beautiful night. Biting cold, of course, but that just seemed to draw more attention to the natural beauty of the moonlit clearing. Harry slumped, looking up with half lidded eyes, hit with all that had just gone down. Albus Dumbledore had tried to block his magic. Harry had _succeeded _in blocking his magic. He had overheard his twin go on about some mystery and gone to investigate. He had survived an encounter with a ginormous Cerberus, and walked away charged with the protection of its pups.

Suddenly the still night's silence was broken with a squawk, and an imperial grey eagle owl materialized from the forest canopy into the clearing. Bearing a letter.

It was two in the morning, out in the freezing cold dangerous forest. Harry couldn't even see the castle. He had just been given the care of two Cerberus pups. Here he was, isolated below the starry Heavens, trying to make with the brooding angst of all that had happened this weekend, and this thing just delivered a letter.

Harry chuckled a dry, defeated chuckle of a man much older, and held out his hands. If Merlin himself were to descend from the sky and proceed to start buggering Phoenix in front of him, Harry would not be surprised at this point. He did have his camera spell ready though.

It was an invitation to spend the break at Malfoy Manor, so that they could "bond". She said that as the next heir to her Family, it was only right she be able to get to know him.

Harry yawned just thinking about it. Slytherins were exhausting. Harry couldn't handle being one full time. It would be her using the time to pick him apart, find out all his dirty little secrets. And a woman like her, Harry couldn't honestly say for sure if he'd be able to keep them all.

And all he wanted to do right now was sleep. At least he'd brought his broom to get back, otherwise he might just lay down with the pups. So, a response. As short and simple as possible without being rude.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Narcissa was just coming out of her closet after having dressed for the day when Dobby delivered Hadrian's response.

She adopted a soft, pitying smile as she read the short but polite missive expressing his apologies and disappointment that he wouldn't be able to attend.

She shook her head and bounced the refolded parchment on her elegant chin thoughtfully. "Oh, no child." She spoke into her empty bedroom. "I'm afraid that's simply not how it works."

What Narcissa wanted, Narcissa got. The same applied with people. She just enjoyed it a bit more when they struggled.

**A/N: **Well I think we caught a brief glimpse of Harry's dark side there. It's more pronounced when he's alone.

The only reason Harry was casting silently when he was escaping Hogwarts was that 1) they were simple spells, 2) it was an adrenaline-fueled moment where he needed to be silent, and 3) he wasn't even really thinking about it at the time.

The spell he used to reveal the runic circle was "Adaperio" which is a strong dispelling hex mixed with a mild compulsion to "uncover". Kind of an all-purpose thing.

So let me know what you think. There's a lot here that can be hit or miss. Harry and Helena's as-of-yet undefined relationship? Hermione? What'd you think of the Marauder's little transportation hub? (which can go to any Marauder-affiliated property)

What about Dumbledore's block? Harry's block? Harry's dark side? The bit with the elf? How about Fluffy having pups? Idk about you, but I've never seen that before.

I will expand more on Helena in future chapters; she is important.

Notice I made Ron smarter, I'll be ooc'ing lots of characters if you're wondering.


	7. Knowledge of Self

Sorry all. My muse has been gone away on vacation, watching Angel for the most part.

If you don't like slow moving stories, sorry. Just bear with me here. It'll pick up and slow down intermittently, but we're almost done with first year. Even though it seems we're only half way, two more chapters and then it's summer. So yeah.

Hey, gotta question. I'm not trying to be…snarky, or anything, but…is there a particular reason you all seem to think a muggle would be less likely to get swept up in fame as a tabloid celebrity? Or be less likely to neglect/abuse children, for that matter? Having magic doesn't rewire your entire personality. If anything, I think a pureblood would see a child as precious, since the wizarding society is so small. And I keep seeing Harry's treatment being referred to as "unnecessary". People, since when is abuse ever "necessary"? And how does being muggleborn automatically make Lily a better person? An abused child doesn't often know why s/he is abused, and the parent in all likelihood wouldn't be able to come up with a rational reason either. Unless they had some sort of demon-baby. Anyway, it's just been nagging at my mind, thought I'd put it out there.

**hpsbdg**: Alright, I'm working on it, should be up in a few days. Will Harry be Voldemort dark? Depends on what you mean. In terms of magic? Yeah, he'll delve deeply. Will he split his soul? No. Will he never trust anyone? He'll trust more than LV, but that's not saying much. Fiercely independent is a good way to describe Harry. In terms of insane maniacal evilness? Sanity intact. And besides, my LV will be quite different from canon. Harry will pick up a few things from him though, you'll see.

**gunner**: Thanks, glad you're liking it. I'll take it into consideration. And I know, right? Personally, I think it's because there's no summary with the link, so people just pass right over it. Maybe after a few more updates, they'll start clicking on it to see what it's all about once they see it's getting some length. But really, haven't we all got the twin story summary memorized? Parents bad. Harry awesome. Insert some cheesy cryptic line.

I don't know why, but it seems when I finally finish a chapter and am ready to post it, I'm always exhausted and therefore can't be bothered to give it a read through. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I own several hundred books, an extensive tv-on-dvd collection, and an outdated laptop, but I don't own any of this.

**Ch. 7: Knowledge of Self**

"Potter." Came the reluctant murmur. Harry turned to face Draco Malfoy with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I've been instructed to give this to you."

The immaculately groomed blonde held out a small pin bearing the Malfoy coat of arms in the "honored guest" colors. A portkey. "It will activate at 6:30 in the evening precisely, so make sure you're clear of the wards. Until Yule." With a quick nod he walked off, leaving Harry eyeing the pin as though it was the pin's fault.

Lady Malfoy had not politely accepted Harry's decline of her invitation. Her reply to him, delivered the next morning, had left him feeling embarrassed, as if he had seriously said something ignorant in front of the assembled governments of the world, and forgotten to wear pants while he was at it.

He had at least wheedled her down to just the dinner, and not the entire holiday break, by politely but firmly informing her that he would be staying at Hogwarts out of necessity and want. (It was begging. It may not have been outright, but it was begging.) She had relented, and so now on December 21st, Harry would be finding himself portkeyed to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire for the evening and most of the night for his first real pureblood celebratory gathering.

Harry was in two minds about nearly every aspect of this. In regards to his host and the guests: well, Harry had sworn to himself that he would stave off arrogance for as long as he lived, but he was fairly confident he could handle the pureblood society with casual grace. The Lady Malfoy, on the other hand… Of the dark high class families (let's not beat around the bush here), she was the only one Harry knew for sure wanted him there. So, if she were to spend the time playing the perfect host, flitting amongst them, Harry may have to deal with at least a little masked hostility. However, were she to spend the event trying to crack him, as she seemed intent on doing, his secrets may be in jeopardy. Harry would assume nothing when it came to the beautiful enigmatic witch.

Sliding the pin into an inner pocket, Harry said nothing, turning instead to the small group of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff girls next to him. The castle was really shaping up, the atmosphere had a feel to it that was very…..Christmasy, was the only way to describe it. The winter sky was perpetually dark, an opaque grey-blue-black. Snow blanketed the castle and grounds, the very meaning of the word picturesque. Small fires roared to life in standing pillar grates here and there, and the hallways smelt of pine and peppermint courtesy of the trees and decorations being set up everywhere. It was the season of thick coats, hot chocolate, and fireside naps. Harry loved it, the cold crisp weather, the overcast atmosphere belying the cheer and life in the air.

"See you when we get back, Harry. You better not open my present before Christmas." Lisa said, standing on her toes to give him a hug. She was kind of short, so her head rested near the crook of his neck. This was the first time Harry had been hugged by someone his age and a girl. It was nice, not too tight or overbearing, but firm and comfortable. He liked it, Harry decided, more than Sirius' bear hugs.

"I won't." He said, rolling his eyes making her smile. "I hope you have a nice trip. I'm sure you'll get those beads you wanted." She would, Harry had gotten them for her. They were in her trunk right now, wrapped up neatly in dark blue paper, she just didn't know it yet. "It's weird to think you'll be having summer in Australia while we're mucking about in the snow. You'll probably be at the…beach. You know, you should…send pictures. And postcards. Yeah. But with pictures." Harry said slowly, his voice growing more enthusiastic as he thought about it.

Lisa blushed and slapped his arm. "Shut up. Jeez, Harry. Wait till my parents find out I've made friends with the school perv." She said the last to Padma in a bemoaning sort of voice. Padma giggled and shook her head, giving Harry a hug of her own.

"Oh, I'm only joking, calm down."

"I know your pain Lisa. Auntie Amelia is gonna go spare that she was right about Harry…and I made friends with him anyway." Susan teased, smiling as she took her turn with Harry.

Harry threw his arms up in dramatic surrender. "Alright, alright, I get it. I never should have said anything. Circe, you women never let anything go. Have nice vacations, everyone, and I'll see you when you get back."

The last of his goodbyes said, Harry trudged back up to his room, going in and collapsing in his nice leather desk chair.

Setting the pin next to the oil lamp, Harry cast his eyes over the last letter from Mrs. Malfoy, which lay open next to it. Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair and picked it up yet again.

_Mr. H. Potter,_

_Upon your completion of the adoption ritual, the two of us will be family in the eyes of magic. To a select few of the Old Families, this is far more important than blood._

_My marriage may hide the name Black, but it is who I remain. Our family has too much history in losing its members, and as such I __**will**__**not**__ waste those few that I am given._

_Young man, you __**will**__ attend the Yuletide celebrations here at Malfoy Manor as an honored family guest, if I have to personally come and collect you myself. The ring you wear gives me the right, and neither Lily and James Potter, nor Albus Dumbledore will stop me, you can be sure of that._

_Mr. Potter…Hadrian. Is it so wrong of me to desire to know you beyond a name and a face? Family goes both ways, I am related to you just as you are to me. I will do my utmost to bring your godfather into attendance as well, but you as well as I know the likelihood._

_I was unaware that you are staying at Hogwarts, as I know for a fact that your mother, father, and brother will be attending the Ministry Ball Christmas Eve, but it changes nothing. There will be no issue, as Lucius has ensured with the Board of Governors. You will be sent a portkey that will bring you to the Manor on the 21__st__, and the use of a room here in our guest wing will be provided for you. _

_It has not escaped my notice that you were alone on the platform, that there was no whisper of your existence prior to September, or that you are remaining at school whilst your family convenes. I will ask you no questions, you have my word. However, as the godson of my cousin at the least, and heir and future Lord of my Family at the most, it is my duty as a Black to ensure your health and happiness._

_So, in accordance with that, I will see you before me in the foyer of my home this coming Yuletide._

_Impatiently awaiting your presence,_

_Sincerely yours,_

_Lady Narcissa Cassiopeia Malfoy, née Black_

And that was that. Strange that he held her in fairly high esteem for some reason, certainly above his parents and most of the population, and yet she was the only person Harry could think of, that he was afraid of.

-.x.**X**.x.-

The chill swept over Harry from where he was perched about 150 feet off the ground. He was laid back lazily on the finely crafted broom Sirius had given him, drifting over Hogwarts' snow covered visage. The castle was uncharacteristically empty with the start of the holidays, only a few random people besides himself staying and none that he knew. The air was silent, thicker. The hallways seemed longer, the motionless castle larger as it loomed high above even Harry. A languid smile curved his lips and lit up his aristocratic features as Harry felt the tension he hadn't even been aware of drain from his being.

Nothing against those he had chosen as friends. '_Or those that have chosen me._' Harry added on, thinking of Blaise. However, due either to his upbringing or just how he was, Harry very much drew his energy from being alone with his thoughts in a relaxed, quiet environment. This time alone in the castle would do him a world of good.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Two hours later, after having gone flying over the surrounding countryside both for the view, and to scout out potential places to build a more permanent home for the pups, Harry returned to his room and collapsed onto his bed. It was kind of hard to tell what would be suitable when everything was blanketed in the pure, crisp white snow.

He'd have to revisit it later. So now, what to do. It was still relatively early afternoon. The last few days had all been spent lazing around and relaxing. Well, Harry was recharged now and ready to go. Thing was, there was still about a week and a half left of the two week vacation. His break homework was all done already, and he had been keeping up his morning exercises as well as every other day magical training sessions. Harry looked about for some idea of what to do, running a hand through his hair leaving it messy. Eventually he let out a breath and sprung up, pulling on a hoodie as he made his way to the door, having decided to go to the library to look for something interesting. It had been a long time since he'd been able to sit with a book that wasn't school related.

He walked the cold corridors silently and gracefully, just enjoying the Christmas season. As he walked, Harry thought of all he should accomplish this break. He wanted to do a little more investigating into the third floor. The implications of the Philosopher's Stone being housed there were just too tempting to ignore. Also, he should start to research more thoroughly on copyright charms. He should know all that he could of them if he was to try to break them. There were a number of things to be doing. There always was. And Harry was quite happily putting them off for now. He walked into the library and began perusing the shelves.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry sat comfortably reading a book about lost arts and the magic of old. There was very little fact, simply conjecture mostly, a few recorded word of mouth stories, but it was a very enjoyable read nonetheless. It was interesting, those times. The different means of learning; finding a master and entering into an apprenticeship, or traveling around picking up whatever one could from here and there all the different cultures. Those sorcerers who generally found a trade they could specialize in, whether love spells or necromancy, and immersed themselves in that art. They may be more specialized, but what they did deal in they dealt at a level so beyond what most achieved today, it was paid no attention to the ghost staring at him from across the table, beautiful in her eternal sadness. She had appeared nigh on half an hour ago and had yet to say anything, just as Harry had yet to acknowledge her presence."Something is changed about you."Harry calmly turned his page. "Yes." he said simply, a spectre not fully connected to this plane, Helena couldn't feel the magic, not exactly. If she could, then she would have known immediately what was catching her attention. As it was, since Harry had applied the block she had taken to sending him odd looks, increasing in their frequency as time went on.

"I am curious, Hadrian. Indulge me."

Harry slowly closed his book, staring blankly at the cover before finally raising his head to look at her. Sighing, he cast his gaze over to the window.

"I was…foolish, perhaps, with the Troll." Harry spoke at last, still not looking at her. "Don't mistake my meaning, I'm relieved I was able to save the girl, and would do it again in a heartbeat. But it might have been more prudent to feign ignorance afterwards. Pretended it was just accidental magic, or even have fled before the teachers arrived."

Helena said nothing. This obviously was not what she had expected, but she had been around a long time. Not much caught her by surprise, and she understood things were often not what they seemed. Still, to those that knew her (Harry), he could clearly see the concern in her opaque eyes.

"The Headmaster obviously has some sort of plan for my brother." Harry said, almost more to himself than her. "The incident with the Troll, and how I handled myself after, put me on the board- caught his attention. Apparently as a threat."

Harry cleared his throat, leaving his voice strong for the truth, almost harsh in its bluntness. "He set a Dwarven Leech Circle around my bed."

Helena's ghostly eyes widened in alarm as she caught on to what he was saying. Harry saw the look and shook his head, alleviating some of her horror but none of her outrage. "No, I felt the vile thing the moment I stepped into the room. No way I'd let that thing anywhere near my magic."

"You did not seek me out." It wasn't a question.

"No. I thought to, but at the time I had no clue what it was, except for a vague suspicion. It was late, and I'd picked up the alert function to the caster. I snuck out to Grimmauld Place that night, and when I finally discovered the purpose…well, I suppose I lost composure."

Helena nodded sympathetically. "It is understandable. I know how that would affect you." Harry nodded back. She placed a cold arm on his shoulder. "Harry, what did you do?"

So Harry told her everything. How he had lost control of his emotions, and let it go in the garden. How he had spent the entire night furiously researching blocks and restraints of all kinds, and decided to place a more beneficial one on himself. Helena was silent for a long time after that, finally asking just one more question.

"Why would you not go to authority? You wear the ring of an old and noble, not to mention powerful, house. In my day, an action such as that would have been grounds for a familial feud."Harry gave a somewhat bitter smile and answered in a soft voice, "Those were more serious times, Helena. Honor, valor... In today's world, well, it's like a game board. Most are merely pieces; a very select few are players. It is a media circus, a barbaric place of depravity and betrayal, lacking any sort of poetic value, in a very large fashion. Yours was a serious world. Ours is a shallow one, with a few serious people in it. And those few are titans." It was an indirect, flowery way of saying that Dumbledore wielded too much power in their society, and Harry didn't trust anyone at that time. Learning how to communicate with Helena had been an eye-opening lesson in speech and semantics, as well as politics.

Unexpectedly, Helena offered comfort in her own way. "There was much then that would horrify you, Hadrian, that is no longer prevalent today. The world is changed, as is the inevitability of time, but still there lies beauty. One only has to look elsewhere." She said nothing about his situation, but Harry felt a little better. He offered her a small smile, and she returned one even smaller than that.

"Well said, My Lady." He said standing and offering her an arm. His voice became softer, more sincere. "Thank you, Helena." She linked her own in his, careful not to pass his skin, and they began walking towards the Tower room he had visited her in that first day of September. "Of course." She replied. "Now, about how this affects your lessons…"

Harry shook his head, but couldn't keep the fond smile from his features.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry silently roamed the dark hallways, pulling his leather jacket tighter under his robes, but delighting in the chill nonetheless. The jacket, the one he had bought in Knockturn that day, was now slightly better fitting, Harry having grown into it somewhat. He walked under his new and improved disillusionment. This one was still Latin based, but it was slightly stronger, slightly harder to dispel, and had a mild aversion built in to distract the weak-minded from the shimmer when he moved. This would likely be the last one for awhile, as there was a sizable gap to the next one in terms of difficulty. But still, he was disillusioning himself while the rest of the school was turning ink invisible.

Trailing his hidden form was a full sheaf of parchment and a self-inking auto dictation quill. No, Harry did not have an obsession with animating things to float after him, it was just…cool. So sue him. Actually, he was working on opening doors as he approached them now. With age and experience, Harry would be able to do it simply by manipulating his aura. Now, with his control not nearly fine tuned enough, and his magic blocked on top of that, Harry had to find another way. He was working on getting instinctive at a mild thought-directed unfocused wandless banisher. When he perfected it, it would be his first piece of wandless magic.

He was out tonight starting preliminary notes for his Hogwarts map. It would take years, so the sooner he started, the better. At the moment he was traversing a part of the castle he had never before been. Harry had seen a hallway a ways from the library with portraits he didn't recognize, and so had wandered down. It was vastly unused, and all Harry knew was that he was on either the 2nd or 3rd floor, or somewhere in between. (most staircases that weren't the primary or secondary stairwells, but individual, were not uniform). It was actually quite curious that he was here, Harry mused. He had no clue how to get back, beyond a vague…that direction. Usually he kept better track of his whereabouts.

He came upon a door that was facing a glass paneled wall full of stained glass depictions of battles long since fought. Going to open the door, Harry paused with a frown on his face and his arm outstretched towards the handle. Why was he going in here? He hadn't wanted to enter any of the countless other doors he had passed. Why did he feel the need to see what was behind this one? Stepping back Harry drew his wand and looked both ways down the corridor, unsure. Sweeping his detection spells over the doorway, Harry raised an eyebrow.

The door had what was the opposite of the popular Notice-Me-Not aversion ward, the Notice-Me-Now. An equal but opposite attraction ward, that was very strong and woven beautifully. Usually Harry could feel things like these just by proximity. That he had succumbed, however slightly, and needed the spell hinted at one of two things. One, that block was interfering with his Occlumency. Disturbing, but thankfully unlikely, as Harry hadn't detected anything during his nightly pre-sleep meditation. The other was simply that the ward was just that well done.

Obviously, someone wanted someone to find this room. Harry had a hunch who both someones were, and he wasn't the second. Harry considered. The setup here was similar to the room holding Fluffy, only with the Notice-Me-Now in place of the locking charm. And identical to the third floor, an alarm was set to alert the Puppeteer the second the door was opened.

There was no way around, but it wasn't like he was about to NOT check out the room. Hmm. External? This wasn't a tower, but it was a thin kind of four story stand alone corridor. He wouldn't be able to go around, but he could go over. He hadn't been here before, but he did know where he was, and clearly remembered that yes, there were windows on the other side too. So, should he summon his broom or go all Spiderman?

Had he left his window open? No, and now that he thought about it he should work an anti-summoning charm around his windows, it was a point of vulnerability. But anyways, he could just summon it anyway and repair the window later, right? '_No,_' Harry thought, shaking his head, '_it doesn't matter either way since the broom's in the trunk. How's your sticking charms Harry?_'

Walking up to those windows, Harry propped it open and looked out and up. About a story up, across the roof, down a story on the other side. Simple. If he had any problems with heights or danger this might be a problem. Thank Morgan he wasn't wired that way. And that he wasn't short, Harry added on to his thought with a shudder. He didn't think he could handle being short.

Harry started running his wand over his form, working the sticking charm over specific areas. Actually physically _seeing_ magic was incredibly rare, but Harry could imagine it. The thick bands forming over his palms, elbows, knees, and feet, weaving together as more were added before shrinking down to fit over like a second skin. It was like the final pull in tying a tie, or blow drying that clear muggle wrapping stuff.

Harry slipped his wand into the holster beneath his sleeve. He cleared his mind, concentrating. The charm you could use on your hands wasn't simple, otherwise you wouldn't be able to even put your wand down. If it was as simple as place and stick, he'd only be able to take one step. Intent was one of the core components of active magic, something you could observe in any continuous live spell. Such as this sticking charm. You had to concentrate on when you wanted it to be active and when you wanted it dormant. Stashing the parchment and quill, Harry walked right up to the ledge, the breeze caressing his face and lifting the fringe of his hair.

He extended his left arm, smoothing his wrist against the rough stone of the castle, and swung out. There was a split second of adrenaline and gravity, as Harry hung hundreds of feet in the air suspended by a four inch section of arm, and then he caught his right on as well. Harry worked himself up the side, thinking that Hogwarts definitely delivered on the unforeseeable situations. He briefly wondered at how odd it was that if he was ever playing "I Never", and someone said scale the outside of the castle with a sticking charm, he would have to take a drink. '_Wow. I really have a strange way of putting things in perspective._'

Reaching the corridor's roof, Harry army crawled up the incline and then slid down the opposite side. He realized that this was going to be the tricky part and slowed down. Placing his feet first, Harry slowly made his way down, back to the wall. He came up alongside the row of windows and stopped, feet flat on the wall, knees bent, and one wrist splayed out for support as the other drew his wand. Two flicks later and Harry was inside. He dropped into the nearly empty room smirking, humming to himself, "duh dun duh….duh duh duh dun….duuun dun dunnn duh…"

'_I am so cool._' He thought smugly to himself. His eyes and magical senses roamed the room, settling on the oversized antiquated mirror looming over against the left wall. Harry raised an eyebrow, gliding a little closer to the thing, intent on discovering why the headmaster wanted his brother to find it, and how it was connected to the third floor.

There was an inscription cut across the top, the rustic letters blending with the varnished frame. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi"

It was in no language that Harry could recognize, which might mean language barriers weren't the answer. Well, next would be to think of different ways to read it- yes, it was backwards, Harry concluded with a victorious smile. It made sense since it was a mirror. Of course, after 4 months of answering riddles to get into his common room that was hardly a challenge. So; "I show not your face, but your heart's desire." Well that was…disturbing.

How? How would it know something like that? Well, actually, it might not. "Know" was probably the wrong word to use. Maybe "show" would be more appropriate. So some sort of enchantment on the glass, that projected for each individual what they desired most? It might work on the eyes, or brain. And each person would likely only be able to see their own desire. Harry shook himself; it was useless conjecture. An artifact as old and unique as this, the roots would likely be impossible to track. And besides, Harry was only stalling himself. The question was: should he step forward, or back? _Could _he?

The truth was, Harry was a little apprehensive, scared even, of what he might see reflected on that glass. The inscription was pretty straightforward, and Harry doubted it would show only what one wanted to see. That knowledge, good or bad, was so deeply personal. Harry was comfortable with himself, but what if it showed his weaknesses, his vulnerability? Did he know himself that well, that completely? Did he accept all of him? And were it to be undeniably shoved in his face, could he? Even now, in his own mind, he ignored the harsh truth. Something that he always _knew_, at a very deep level, but stayed clear of confronting even in his thoughts.

Harry sat out of range back and to the side, staring at that silvery pane of glass for close to 20 minutes, deliberating. He wasn't sure he wanted to look.

Finally when the cold had seeped through to his toes, Harry stood, silent in the darkness. It wasn't about what he wanted. He had to do this. A second passed. Then another. Harry, stepped slowly before the mirror.

Involuntarily, a hungry smile spread across his features. There he was, in all his glory. He no longer stood in the shadows, but at the center of it all. He was surrounded by a fair few number of people, some he could recognize, and some he couldn't. The one thing they all had in common was their clear influence or power. And every single one of them were looking upon Harry with awe and respect, as well as…deference? That was odd. But it also felt right somehow, like he knew it would. Harry had grown magnificently. Whereas now he had a lot of height, but was by no means the tallest, the mirror-him towered above everybody, not a hint of a slouch in his posture. He wore fine but simple robes, that emphasized his powerful build perfectly. And in his eyes lay no fear, no doubt. No insecurity, or self depreciation. Not the slightest flicker of hesitancy or discontent.

All around the scene it was apparent how pervasive magic was. It was in everything; the plants, the people, the air. The strength of magic had returned to how it was in times long past.

Harry stared unblinking, enraptured with this dream. This teasing glance of what the future might be, if only Harry could reach it.

Suddenly, as his gaze swept the group over his shoulder, he caught a flash of red. His smile slipped, replaced with his mask as he recoiled slightly. That little…thing that he had worried about, it was there. No matter how strongly he wished it hidden, still it was there.

Lily Potter. His mother. She was ignoring everything that was going on around her, instead focusing her attention on Harry. On Harry, and no other. Her eyes, once so identical to his own, were bright, shining with the love and pride only a mother could feel. A look he had seen on her face countless times, but only for Casey.

Harry stumbled back, tearing his gaze from the damnable mirror. He leant his forehead against the freezing glass of the window, eyes closed. His breathing began to slow, and suddenly he hit the window with the open palm of his hand. It felt good so he did it again. His eyes opened slowly, gazing out over the winter forest, trying in vain to spot the area he had housed the pups in the leafless trees and lightly falling snow. Harry shook his head and let out a bitter chuckle.

He was always so put together, so composed. Now that he was at school, living alone, he was letting go of his past and looking towards his future. Bullshit. He was still the same _little boy_ with the same _damn _weaknesses. It ate at him that he still craved their acceptance, their _love_. He hated it. He hated them for it. For holding that over him, even if they didn't know it. For not giving it to him in the first place, like family was supposed to. And he loathed himself for not being able to let it go. Although he supposed it wasn't the whole family. According to the mirror it was only _her_.

His distress was quickly turning to anger, and Harry fueled it as much as he could. Anger was easier to deal with. Harry quickly picked up his cloak, throwing it over his leather jacket and moving to the ledge. He needed to break something.

-.x.**X**.x.-

A few days later, Harry decided to go visit Fluffy. Tucked under his arm was a light concave panel, meant to share images or illusions of a sort. Pensieves, while not exactly rare, weren't common either. And they were anything but cheap. This threadbare alternative required a lot more spell work and finesse from the user, and only replicated the base functions. Harry would work it, and images of the pups as they were now would play above it. He might be acting foolishly in sharing it with the Cerberus, but Harry had a feeling the guardian would appreciate it. Besides caring for his children, this was Harry's more immediate offering to Fluffy in an attempt to coax him into letting Harry down the trap door.

After everything he saw in the mirror, and the emotionally draining destruction he had reigned upon the dungeon storage room afterwards in a "training session", Harry had relaxed and thought about it some more. While it still burned at him as much as it could with everything still locked down with his Occlumency, Harry was working on accepting and resolving this part of himself. Still, in an effort to get away from the turmoil it brought up, Harry decided to think about the Philosopher's Stone mystery and what he was going to do about it, if anything. Then, of course, it had occurred to him that he couldn't answer that question if he had no clue what the parameters of said mystery actually were.

The pups were doing great in the forest. Thriving, actually. With a steady source of food to hunt, and endless room to run and play and explore the world, they were growing at an alarming rate. He had lately been trying to come up with names. So far, he was trying his best to not give in to the temptation to name them Jake and Elwood, not entirely sure they would appreciate his pop culture obsession, but it was a losing battle. Still, better than Fluffy.

When Harry walked into the room, he was struck by Fluffy's size. He hadn't really got a good measure of it last time, but…damn. The growling had stopped once he recognized Harry and now he was watching him silently, right head tilted inquiringly while the middle stared unblinking and the left surveyed the room, ever watchful. Harry strode to the center and arranged the panel, then took out his wand and placed the tip to his temple. Fluffy took a few steps closer, interested to see what Harry was doing.

Depositing the silvery strand in the indent, it slowly clouded over and covered the entire surface, becoming mirror like when it stopped. Harry stood back and aimed his wand. "Agnosco." He murmured. Immediately pearly shapes rose into the air, swirling around a bit before they solidified into Jake and Elwood…er, into the pups. The color and detail came next, until they were basically illusions, chasing each other around the room. They were bigger now, about chest height to Harry. Jake's tendency to pounce was becoming astronomically more painful. Harry kept his concentration on maintaining the spell, but stole a glance up at Fluffy. All six eyes were riveted on the memory, soaking it in, and he stood unmoving, which for a Cerberus his size was very disconcerting.

Harry held it for as long as he could, and when the images faded and Fluffy turned to look at him, he knew it wasn't stupid. It was worth it. Somehow he knew that Fluffy appreciated it. Harry nodded and sat down, taking a small break before he tried to get down the trapdoor. He was broken from his reverie when he was nudged by a paw about the size of his body. Fluffy snorted and moved off the trapdoor. After a moment, Harry let out a barking laugh almost identical to his godfather's. "Am I that transparent?"

Revealing spells indicated no other alarms on the hatch, so he propped it open and looked down. Into nothing but pitch black darkness. "Well, here goes nothing." One cushioning charm later Harry leapt off into the unknown.

Harry touched down gracefully, pulling his large black hood up and twirling his wand to create the orb of light that would follow him through the rest of the defenses. When the soft pale light sprung into being, the black rooted vines that had been stealthily entwining themselves around Harry's boots quickly retreated. Taking only a few seconds to recognize the Devil's Snare, Harry couldn't help but snort derisively. '_Right. Because having the first defense as a plant that shies away from light, when casting some kind of light is going to be the first thing anyone does after dropping into a pitch black abyss, just makes SO MUCH bleeding sense._' They should've capitalized on making the potential thief drop into the unknown, specifically that most wouldn't be able to stop from landing in or through some kind of ward or trap set at the bottom. In fact, Dumbledore could've put his little magic block trap at the bottom. That would not only almost certainly stop them, but also ruin their lives. Try to steal the Philosopher's Stone, lose your magic.

Harry may be mild mannered most of the time, but once one made a move against him or his, he would be absolutely ruthless in his response. Dumbledore's would have to be a long-delayed revenge, but when Harry took it, it would be brutal; the old man would know pain and fear before the end.

'_Focus. Here and now._' Harry stalked down the narrow vine gilded passage and brief flight of stairs, rounding the curved dark hallway to emerge in a dimly lit room of fluttering winged keys and a door. Knowing it probably wouldn't work, Harry pointed his wand at the door. "Alohamora." Nothing. Harry nodded to himself, mentally marking more powerful unlocking charms to the list of things to learn. Now he could either try a method of picking locks Sirius had taught him that involved pushing one's magic into the lock mechanism and tinkering with it, which might not work if it was a particularly strong spell holding the door, or he could go through the defense as a potential thief was meant to. Harry could feel the magic on the broom; the rickety old thing had more enchantments on it keyed to the keys than it had for flight. Obviously once he touched it, all would not be well.

Harry lowered his hood for greater visibility, sharp eyes quickly locating the old fashioned rusted specimen with silver wings. "Impervious." He muttered, working the spell over all vulnerable areas of his body. Sharp agile little devils? Yeah three guesses what was about to happen, and the first two don't count. Harry would rather not get torn to bits.

Quickly mounting the broom, Harry was halfway to the old key before the swarm converged on his prone form. It was hard to resist the reflex to swat at them, but the Impervious charm did its job. Harry gave chase gracefully, twisting around the pinecone style pillars with finesse. Just because Casey had never witnessed Harry on a broom didn't mean he couldn't fly. His natural ease in the air was one of two things he had seemingly inherited from James Potter, that he didn't mind. The other was his formidable height.

Up ahead of him, the key took a left, preparing to twist and dive back down. Harry grinned. "Too wide." He cut into the arc, hooking a single finger through the open end effortlessly and flipping over to plunge back down to the ground. Harry flew straight at the door and swerved, keeping it horizontal as he ground to a halt. The force from the sudden stop didn't jar his arm at all as it brought his wand to bear and he unleashed an overpowered knock back jinx at the crowd of golden pursuers. They were all buffeted back, disoriented long enough for Harry to unlock the door and fly through.

He came upon a room lit with various open flames, reminiscent of post-destruction battlefield. Various scattered stone body parts lay in eerie backdrop to the sides, the floor itself having been made into a giant chessboard spanning the room, and equally giant stone pieces with real weapons were lined up and ready. McGonagall, that's who designed this one. Harry filed away the information that the woman was apparently as well versed in charms as she was in transfiguration. This challenge was well thought out, and much more serious than those before. Playing across the board would take time; time that, had the potential thief come through the door, one would not have. And in the rush, mistakes were likely to be made. This might be a challenging obstacle…if they hadn't just given him a broom in the previous room. Harry let out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, oddly enough disappointed in this whole thing.

Honestly, were these people stupid? Obviously the Headmaster wanted Casey to be able to get through, but what of the teachers that set the traps? Could they not see and draw attention to the many flaws, numerous and glaring as they were? Or were they in on the ruse as well? Or perhaps Harry was selling them short. It was possible that there was another factor he was unaware of.

Not having had cause to dismount, Harry flew across the board near the ceiling. The pawns crossed swords in protest, but he was in the air so it was pointless. The larger pieces were becoming visibly upset and the black pieces were laughing at the whole thing, so Harry just slipped through the other door.

The odor hit first, but the visual wasn't far behind. Two Mountain Trolls, each even larger than the one from Halloween paused in their pacing to stare at him comically. Before they regained whatever wits they possessed and thought to attack, Harry made with quick precise wandwork, using his tried and true Incarcerous/transfiguration combo to tie them down with steel bonds and fly to the other end. He couldn't kill and claim these, it would be much too conspicuous. '_Oh, the Trolls are gone? Hmm, let's see, who has a history of killing Trolls and happens to be staying over break?_'

Harry set the broom down when purple flames sprung up behind him, followed by black before him. Purple and black were generally the more…serious of magical flames. In the midst of the room stood a wooden table with seven bottles and a small scroll. Taking a look at the riddle, Harry simplified it. Ok, so one for each direction, three poison, two wine. Harry cast a few advanced component analyzing charms over the bottles, and raised an eyebrow at the results. The parchment may say three were poison, but the spells said differently. They were all poisoned, in one way or another. Ah, good old Snape. At least someone was actually trying to protect the stone. Dark wizards were just so much more realistic; poison and questionable flames, was it weird that Harry was feeling more comfortable now?

Harry deduced that the large one was meant to transport the user back through the purple flames, and the small one forward through the black. Now here was the real riddle. If one were to go onward, succeed, and make it back out, only then would they come out unharmed. The component in the large bottle neutralized that in the small. Only thing was, judging by the runes circling the room, on the way back the flames would be reversed. The thief's only options would be to go back and be stuck, burn, or sit and succumb to poison. Alone, that in the large bottle was a very slow acting poison, no doubt meant to allow those coming to check defenses time to get to the hospital wing. It would also explain why the bottle was so big. There was only enough for one drink in the small bottle, and Harry couldn't let his presence be known.

It took about fifteen minutes of sitting to come to a tentative solution, and even so he was about to take a big risk. Purple and black were the most dangerous of magical flames, but because of this they were also closely related. It was this Harry was basing his solution off of.

Harry took a larger-than-necessary gulp of the potion for the purple flames, the Ankh pendant burning against his chest as he ingested the poison. Weaving a flame-freezing charm after casting the one to draw in moisture, Harry walked through the black flames. It felt wrong-he could feel the fire licking at his body, just barely being repressed by a barrier. But then he was out, wiping his forehead in relief, and looking upon what was undoubtedly the final room.

The mirror? It was the mirror? '_You have __**got**__ to be freaking kidding me._' It had to have been moved very recently. Which meant that Casey had to have found it right before the hols, and Dumbledore had only now gotten the chance to relocate the thing down here. Had Harry not been walking by that night, he likely wouldn't have ever seen the thing except for down here. Then again had he not had to deal with what he had learned, he very well might have left it all alone. What were the odds?

On one hand, Harry wouldn't have had to see the mirror's tantalizing glimpse of what could be marred by Harry's one very critical unrealized vulnerability. On the other, had he not…well then, it likely would have come to haunt him with more severe consequences later. And he wouldn't be kindling this newfound determination.

Acutely aware he had to be swift if he were to get back to his room where an antidote to the poison waited before he felt any ill affects, especially since he was going to Malfoy Manor later, Harry approached the mirror he had discovered a few days ago.

He stood before it without really looking at what it showed, instead fully extending his magical senses. He was assaulted with the mass array of magic contained in the mirror, and had to stand for a few moments adjusting, similar to when you go from a dark room to having the lights flicked on full blast.

When it had calmed, it remained overwhelming. Harry frowned in thought, then tapped his wand to his temple. What he did wasn't opening the magic to the visible spectrum. Seeing magic was a very rare and difficult thing to accomplish. The intent worked with his Occlumency to give visual representation to his mind of what he was feeling with his senses. Most base example: if Harry thought of an alert ward as a red light, it would appear as a red light, and similar things would appear similarly. Also, if he was missing something with his magical senses, he wouldn't be able to see it, since there was nothing of it in his mind for the spell to visualize.

Harry swished his wand, focusing on recently cast magic, that which wasn't inherit in the object. Most of the lights and webs faded away, leaving quite a few enchantments, but a much more workable number. And they all bore the same signature. Assuming it to be Dumbledore's, Harry catalogued it. A fair few remaining were surveillance or alert oriented. Harry needed to keep those in sight to navigate around them, but made a loose corkscrew motion to make them a pale translucent background image.

Make no mistake, Harry was out of his depth by this point, but he hadn't come all this way for nothing and so kept at it, trying to manipulate the magic in a way that made sense to him. What he was left with was…interesting. There were two…compartments, he guessed would be a good word. They appeared as two round orbs in the mirror, greenish blue in color, the various magic worked around them. Harry could guess the purposes, but didn't exactly recognize them. Some would be the dimensional space modifiers to house a three dimensional object in a mirror. Others would be for the actual housing, and still others for the retrieval.

The two were not connected directly, but both had pathways leading to a common point. The "exit" point, if Harry had to guess. The path to the left orb was brighter, suggesting that the other was possibly dormant for the moment. What Harry uncomfortably labeled the retrieval magic on the left seemed to be intent operated, but beyond that Harry couldn't tell. Perhaps storage was a feature of the mirror and Dumbledore only needed the one compartment? But no, this was all recently done, so Dumbledore had created both. So how did the other fit into it?

Peering closer, Harry took note of a small sliver near the "exit" that was attached to the retrieval, and had roots between both pathways. Harry held his wand still and slowly twisted it to the right. As he did so, the visual zoomed in, offering a closer and larger view.

Harry froze. A slow smile began to spread across his face, downright sinister in its victorious glee. He could recognize the function of that sliver, and it solved the entire puzzle for him as far as he was concerned. He had found that other factor. And it changed everything. The old man was clever, Harry would give him that. But this also brought the Stone into the realm of "accessible" to Harry. Almost on their own volition, various schemes and plans began forming in the back of his mind, some being discarded, others rethought to expand upon. Even now, Harry already could see where this was going, and smirked viscously.

Checking the time, Harry swished his wand and cancelled his special vision. Dumbledore and whoever the thief was wouldn't know what hit them when the time came, but right now, Harry had a party to get ready for.

-.x.**X**.x.-

"Ma'am." He said, again taking her hand in his own and brushing his lips over her knuckles. "Thank you very much for your invitation…s."

Her luscious lips quirked up into a dazzling smile. She tilted her head, that same gorgeous smile gaining a chiding and victorious edge.

Harry was dressed smartly in a simple tuxedo under black dress robes. Honestly, since he was only eleven Harry didn't feel the need to dress up, just nice. He had just arrived in the opulent foyer of Malfoy Manor, and waited briefly while the guests ahead of him were greeted by the Lord and Lady of the house. For the day he had had and the poison he had drank, Harry felt surprisingly energized.

Although Yuletide was a very festive holiday, it was a very black tie affair, as nearly everything was in pureblood society. The guests were all prim and polished, although none more so than Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. The couple stood regally at the entrance to the ballroom, where Harry was now exchanging his own pleasantries. He had shared a few overly formal polite words with Lucius, who admittedly cut an impressive figure. Not a strand of his sleek blonde hair was out of place, and he stood tall in immaculate deep charcoal grey robes, glossy leather boots, and snakehead cane. However, it was his wife who drew the attention and kept it.

She wore a provocative bright red dress. The kind of dress that most women were afraid of; and the majority of those that weren't, should have been. She wore it effortlessly, her natural beauty outstripping it by a mile. Oh, it was an expensive high class little number, to be sure. But conservative would be one of the last words to ever use in its company. It clung tightly to her frame, the neckline showing an amount of cleavage that defined the line between alluring class and immodesty. The back dipped even lower, exposing smooth flawless skin that damn near glowed, ending teasingly at the beginnings of her curves but still a ways from her hips. It clung to those too, but of a different fashion. Whereas near her chest the dress was smooth and tight, it loosened and bunched at her waist, resting lightly on her sensually flared hips, before falling in varying lengths around toned and tanned legs as smooth as the rest of her; the lowest part somewhere behind her left leg almost to her ankle, the highest only coming mid thigh. Accompanied by minimal jewelry in the form of a few golden bangles around her wrists, a thin anklet chain, and simple gold and diamond pieces in her ears, around her neck, and holding her hair together, Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't have looked out of place at an outdoor Salsa bonfire type party.

Supermodel lesbians could be making out with Veela on the other side of the hall, and still most of the room would be watching Narcissa, Harry included. He was starting to feel a little pity for Draco.

"It was my pleasure, Hadrian, I assure you." She responded. "I'm only glad you decided you could make the time."

Harry kept his composure, smiling politely. "You can hardly blame me for being wary, milady."

She just laughed, conceding his point. "Yes, well, I do hope we can move past some of those walls tonight, hmm?"

Harry bowed his head slightly and began moving forward before he could hold up the queue too long. "I look forward to it."

"Oh, Hadrian, before you go in...have you been taught how to dance?"Harry hesitated for about three seconds. '_Lie. Don't lie. Lie. You can't lie._'Harry mentally ceded to the second voice. It was something there really was no getting out of. "Yes." He said slowly, victorious chiding smile was back, although this time with a distinctly more smirk-like lilt to it. "Perfect." she said, eyebrow tilted and eyes dancing. He should have lied.

The ballroom was decorated magnificently. It was grand and wide open, long food tables over to one side and smaller rounded tables with chairs on the opposite side. There was a bar and lounge area, undoubtedly where the politicians would be mingling. A large crystal chandelier hung high overhead, and directly below it the pyre for the Yule log to be lit later that evening. Large western facing windows offered a clear view of the already long-dark sky, the last vestiges of light having disappeared more than two hours ago.

They had all the traditional food and drink; a succulent looking turkey already carved into slices and various pork dishes, assorted fruits and nuts, and of course the desert stuff, cookies and cider-soaked caraway cakes. There were also rolls, potato salads, and other less traditional harvest foods. Teas, ciders, and lots of alcohol rounded it out.

About half an hour into it, Harry finally spotted someone he knew in the form of Blaise, who was standing with his back to Harry and talking to Draco Malfoy. Remembering how Blaise had whined about Harry's sudden appearance in the entrance hall before the sorting, Harry grinned before making his way over unnoticed. He slinked up behind him, sliding into the spot right next to Blaise, before announcing himself. "Evening, boys. Lovely party, isn't it?"

To his credit, Blaise tensed but did not jump. He also refrained from glaring at Harry. Draco, however, had no experience with Harry's entrances and subsequently dropped his plate.

Ignoring this, Harry raised an eyebrow in Blaise's direction, challenging and inquiring. Blaise responded in kind, buffing his nails on his chest. Harry snorted.

"How'd you do that?"

"I told you-"

"No, not that. Ignore Draco's tirade for making him drop his plate."

Harry grinned, looking over at the food table where Draco had stomped off to get a new plate. "Oh that. Well, I haven't had a chance to throw a jibe at his dad yet, so I figured I'd ruffle princess's feathers."

Blaise laughed, "Don't like Malfoys, huh?"

"Well." Harry began, turning to look across the room, "Not _all_ Malfoys."

Blaise followed his gaze and nodded in agreement. "I hear you there, mate."

"And it's not like I have a real problem with Draco, either. Something about the way he struts around, I find it freaking hilarious. So I guess it's just Lucy."

"Try not to do that again tonight, will you Potter?" Draco announced his presence by asking irritably.

"Sure thing Malfoy."

"So…Draco…" Blaise began, his lips twitching. Draco cut him off, apparently at his wits end.

"If you're about to make a comment about my mother, Zabini, just save it. To hell with this party, I will pull my wand and blast you clear across the room." He said scowling.

Blaise was now full on smirking. "No need to be so touchy, Draco, I was only going to compliment the Lady on her beauty. Nothing…vulgar, I assure you." Now Harry was smirking. '_Yeah, right._'

"Well gentlemen, as fascinating as this is," Harry downed his drink, not believing he was actually going to be the one to initiate this, "I think I'm going to ask the most beautiful girl here to dance." Harry paused, about to leave, and slid his eyes over to Draco, grinning. "Besides our lovely host, I mean."

Blaise broke out into a smirk again, laughing. Draco scowled some more, although mostly for show. He flicked one of the little cakes at Harry, which he dodged. "Oh, sod off."

The two watched as Harry glided straight across the room and right up to Daphne Greengrass.

"No way."

"Oh, he's got some stones."

They could see him exchange a few words with her parents and little sister, and then turn completely to Daphne, holding out his arm in clear invitation. After a few seconds and a raised eyebrow on her part, she took it.

"Son of a bitch!" Draco exclaimed.

Blaise shook his head, looking about the room for other attractive females. Harry had the right idea. "Yeah, he does that." And with that he moved towards Nora Moon, his Italian accent suddenly making a mysterious reemergence.

Harry led Daphne out onto the floor and the two easily joined in rhythm, going with the crowd. Harry completely ignored all the eyes on them, partly because of who he was, and partly because they were so young, and Daphne soon followed his example. Harry was determined to have fun tonight.

-.x.**X**.x.-

"It was very enjoyable, milady, but I fear the rest of the guys may mob together should I keep you to myself much longer." He said with a winning, charming smile. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "But I had a lot of fun."

She snorted, but gave the slightest of smiles. Hey, from the Ice Queen, he'd take it. "Good sir, it was…fun. If it looks like they're still too afraid to approach me after awhile, do me a favor and come save me, yeah?" She looked around at all their classmates, still with her hands on his arms. "And if they aren't, then thanks for opening the door. I do love to dance, and would be most grateful if you came back later this evening."

Harry bowed his head, kissing her knuckles. Before he could leave, Daphne stepped closer with her hands on his shoulders and gave him the not-quite-as-common traditional kiss on the cheek. She gave in to the Slytherin compulsory need to smirk, although Harry found he didn't mind, and walked towards the food table. Harry shook himself out of his daze and smiled, setting a course for the newly free Morag MacDougal. All those people going on about how insane women were needed to get over themselves. Girls were awesome!

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry leant against a wall, catching his breath and sipping at a glass of truly amazing apple cider. It was a wall right by a door leading out to a balcony and he had a pillar directly to his left. He wasn't hiding; he had finally gotten a break now that the music had stopped and everyone was waiting for the Yule log to be brought in. The celebration had really caught on, one of those where everyone starts to enjoy themselves regardless of their best efforts. Most were flushed, but not drained, from the dancing and were in small groups talking animatedly and getting a bite to eat. Harry, shockingly, had gladly stayed on the dance floor, making rounds with nearly every girl he had come across. Perhaps the magic of the holiday celebrating peace and happiness had caught him? Or maybe he just needed to unload after everything that had happened at the castle. Whatever the reason, Harry had danced with Daphne, Morag, Nora, Nora's older sister, Daphne's best friend Tracey, Daphne again, Daphne's little sister Astoria, and a handful of others. Hence, here he was leaning contentedly on the wall by himself.

It was in this pleasant haze that Harry caught sight of red and blonde working its way slowly through the fringe of the crowd in Harry's direction. Harry took a breath and set his face in a soft accepting smile. He waited for the Lady Malfoy patiently. She skirted the edge of the crowd, not stopping but slowing to shake hands and exchange pleasantries. She shared some joke with some politician, still moving towards him, but with her head turned away. Finally, she was free of the last of them and Narcissa turned forward, locking ice blue eyes onto his own.

She crossed the distance quickly without rushing, possibly afraid he would slip away if she didn't corner him, but she needn't have worried. Before he could speak, she situated herself against the pillar facing him and smiled. "Well, if Sirius could have seen you tonight, I'm sure he would have been inordinately proud." Harry closed his mouth, the generic "Good evening, My Lady." dead on his lips. She meant to make this informal then, casual. Harry relaxed and smiled ruefully, rolling his eyes.

Narcissa laughed a musical laugh. "You weren't staying out there and in the arms of so many young women in an effort to avoid me, by any chance?" Harry shook his head, grinning unrepentantly. "I would never dream of avoiding your company, Lady Malfoy. It just kind of happened, I honestly can't believe I danced at all, actually."

"Hadrian, please. If you cannot call me Narcissa, Mrs. Malfoy will have to do. Too much of this Lady stuff in one day…" She gave a light shudder. Harry blushed and looked away towards the bricks where they were now setting the new log. That shudder had done…interesting things. Seeing this, Narcissa gave a sexy smirk but said nothing, following his gaze. That was it, Harry clamped down with his Occlumency. He was going to need it; that smirk… The Slytherins at Hogwarts needed smirking lessons, they were obviously doing it wrong.

Using his mind magic, Harry quickly calmed and gave his charming smile. He adopted his smooth, unassuming voice. "Well then, Mrs. Malfoy. You were quite adamant to get me here…here I am."

She shook her head, taking a drink from her own glass. "I said that I would not pry. Not just yet, at any measure. So, I just want to talk. Maybe a few things about yourself? Although I am very glad you decided to join us tonight, _Mr. Potter_."

They fell into a surprisingly easy silence as they watched last years log be brought in, still engulfed in the purple flames of Gubraithian fire. It was set down next to the new log on the marble pyre right in the center of the ballroom. The guests all quieted, a magical hush sweeping the celebration as the Lord Malfoy and Lord Selwyn stepped into place, the keeper of the home and bringer of the new log respectively. Next year, the Selwyns would host Yule and Lord Selwyn would perform the ritual with the next log giver.

This, as most of the old holidays, was steeped in symbolism. The magic recognized them looking towards the future, almost a communion vow to keep it alive and thriving. The two men raised their hands, eyes closed. No words were spoken, but the magic in the air jolted, thrumming powerfully, reverberating throughout every person's being and resonating in their cores, cleansing and renewing. Harry gasped silently, the block on his core straining painfully. He grit his teeth and opened his mind and intentions to the magic, bearing the pain and willing it to pass unhindered.

Beside him Narcissa turned curious concerned eyes onto him, placing a hand on his back. When she caught what his mind was broadcasting, she frowned.

Malfoy and Selwyn began to hum low in their throats, and slowly those around them began to as well, the vibrating sound catching in an ever-expanding circle until all the guests were participating, even Harry. The burning log jerked into the air, hovering about eight feet above the pyre. It was haloed in a soft golden light, fading into the spectrum ever brighter. The flames extricated themselves from the log that had been alight for a year, coalescing upwards in a smoke-like manner to hang suspended. The other lights in the room dimmed, leaving flickering iridescent violet light reflecting off hundreds of wonder filled eyes. Harry's eyes shot open, his chest burning and lips parted.

The golden light invaded the log the flames had just left, and it flared. Even as it faded back, the log began to change. It began falling apart, and fell onto the new one, but before the ashes hit they transformed into the trimmings. On the wings of the ashes rose the blessing of magic unto the new year. Where before the log had sat plain, it was now doused in the traditional cider and ale and dusted with flour, arrayed around it were evergreen boughs twined with holly, pine, and cinnamon. The flames flickered to a merrily cackling orange, reverting to normal fire before descending on the log in full. At the end of the twelve days of smoldering the Gubraithian fire would be born again. The rebirth of the Sun, celebrated on the longest night of the year.

The magic settled, and Harry slumped back, Narcissa catching his glass and gracefully guiding him to the wall, shielding his form from view.

Everyone began to move out onto the patio and grounds for the nighttime part of the celebration. It proved false all notions that purebloods were all cold, heartless, single minded bastards. There were games for the children (and some of the adults), a live band, the magical boats were giving rides for couples across the small lake, and everyone was having a merry time.

Harry was still reeling from the way the magic brought on by the ritual had pulled at his block, and trying to make sense of the results while simultaneously rapidly repairing the defenses around his mind. It felt…closer, more comfortable, but at the same time Harry had no idea what had happened; it would take some experimentation later.

'_But speaking of the block,_' Harry thought, eyeing Narcissa who was now staring at him intently, '_oh crap._'

"I'm sure it is a riveting tale." She spoke calmly, "Perhaps for tomorrow morning. Or another time. For now, tell me about yourself. I went through all the considerable effort to get you here Hadrian, I would like to know just who the heir to my family is. Come," She continued, skillfully maneuvering him out with the others and to the large white tent literally lit by hundreds of frolicking fairies, "you can tell me while we dance."

Harry stared at her for a moment, immensely relieved she wasn't digging on this now. "Harry, ma'am. You may call me Harry, if you'd like." He was answered with curved lips and soft eyes. "Harry, then. Come."

The party was treated to the somewhat amusing sight of Narcissa Malfoy leading the Potter boy onto the dance floor, the first to take it up since the log lighting.

From where they were seated with, much to Blaise's displeasure, Parkinson and Nott, Draco and Blaise watched with wide unbelieving eyes. '_That's it. Harry's my new role model._' Blaise thought to himself.

"Damn. Hey-"

"Not a word, Zabini. Not. A. Word."

**A/N: **Yes, I know I left out what Harry found in the mirror. This is my first pathetic attempt at suspense. More next chapter, all to be revealed in ch. 9. And yes, the intent based retrieval magic was the whole "want to get the stone, but not use it".

Harry had to open his mind to the magic during the ritual, and with the connectivity and communion aspects of it mixed with Narcissa's Legilimency skill and proximity to Harry, it was clear to her.

Please don't mistake Harry and Narcissa's relationship at this point. A lot of what we've seen so far has been the high-class courtesy and formal manners, some other has been her curiosity, but it's not all ambition and plotting. There is still a measure of genuineness. They are both kind of intrigued by the other, and things like sentiment after the ritual-that's sympathy and understanding, not a plot.

Hmm, I didn't mean to hint at any sort of sentience to Magic yet, it just kind of happened. It will be introduced slowly, and won't be really explored for a long time yet.


	8. Brown Eyed Girl

So sorry about the long wait. Let me assure you, it was on no account of me making this chapter awesome, and had everything to do with me being lazy.

I will just say that I am extremely unhappy with this chapter, but very happy that I finally have something to post. I think I need to just get it out there, and move on with the story.

Thank you so very much for all the reviews, and for the adds to favs/alerts. I'm really very sorry if I didn't get around to replying, I tried, but I know I missed a few people. In future I will be more on top of it, I promise. Here I'm gonna answer a few questions from some that were anonymous or had their pm turned off.

**Jon**: thanks! And _thank-you_ for appreciating the magic. On Dumbledore's thoughts and the mage reference: it will be, but not immediately. Also, it isn't based solely on power, even if it is a large contributing factor. You'll see.

**SeverAllTies**: right, thanks. We'll start seeing more of Snape in second year, and he will be more involved from then on. I'll throw in a few more pov's though, I think it'd help. And yeah, his parents will definitely get a slap in the face with that. Haven't shown them at all so far, so summer will be somewhat Potter-oriented.\

**Mike**: ok, everyone is asking about Harry/Narcissa, and as some are anonymous or have their pm turned off, I'll answer here. In the coming (school) years, Narcissa will move into a friendship and slight mentoring role. Beyond that, their relationship will change many times into many different things. That's all I'm saying.

**hpsbdg**: sorry, I'll get around to it sooner or later.

**puppethpuse**: first of all, thanks! And we'll be getting into pureblood society pretty soon actually, and I do hope to give them justice. They have flaws, everyone does, but they have reasons and justifications as well.

And lastly, I will no longer make promises as to when the next update will be, as obviously things get in the way and I can't keep them.

**Ch. 8: Brown Eyed Girl**

A light chisel into the window frame in the form of a holding rune shaped as a pathway leading into an open circle rounded out Harry's work with the scalpel.

Straightening, he stretched his back and wiped his brow. A quick motion of his wrist brought his holly wand out of its sleeve and he flicked it twice. "Adducere Motus."

From where it lay on his desk, the length of Unicorn mane hair rose and moved to the window frame, where it arranged itself over the runes in mirroring shapes before sinking into them. 10 Galleons a hair? Yeah, screw that. To Harry the Unicorn hair, which had a near infinite number of uses, was worth much more. What wasn't used to power the runes cut itself off and flew back to the medium sized cabinet next to the potions store cupboard and rejoined its larger store between Unicorn tail hair and fallen leaves from the Whomping Willow. Once there the cabinet shut and the distinct click of the lock sounded through the room.

Harry was finally getting around to working that anti-summoning charm he had thought of that night with the mirror.

He twitched his pointer and middle fingers in a peculiar manner, the trigger he had programmed into the holster, and his yew wand joined his left hand. Harry had never dual cast before, and this promised to be a learning experience. He had spent the last week building a wanded charms channel down his left arm, but so far had only tested it with minor things. He placed each wand tip in the center of the two charging runes that began each sequence, shaped as a circle of outward facing triangles, similar to how a young child would draw a sun, but without the center part.

Harry cleared his mind and muttered, "Repugno Vocatio." The spell formed and held flawlessly, just as Harry knew it would, and he began pouring power into it. From the point the wand tip connected with the runes, they began flaring to life with a brilliant blue light, illuminating the room in eerie alien luminescence, and throwing Harry's features into sharp relief. It went in a progressive pattern, flying down both sequences to either side of the windows, rushing up the sides, and meeting at the single holding rune from opposite sides of the curved pathway, tying it all together. They flashed white once, and then settled into a low humming glow, which emanated from the hollows cut into the wood like an approaching torch just around the corner.

Harry grinned satisfactorily and waved his wand at the pile of sawdust piled beneath the sill. It jumped back into his carvings, where it coated the hair and openings, so that rather than glowing cuts in his wall, they were now just slightly indented glossy silvery blue runes.

He made a few last alterations, so that only he would be able to bypass the ward, and locked it all in. He inspected it for a few moments more, admiring his craftsmanship and intricate designs before nodding to himself and walking to his desk. He rotated his left arm and rubbed his shoulder a bit, but for a first run on that channel it went off without a hitch.

-.x.**X**.x.-

An hour later, Harry entered the common room with his bag, and promptly made his way over to Lisa and Padma. He waved across the room to Parker, over by the books, who nodded and made a note in his logbook. Harry, Lisa, and Padma were doing their weekly study session now, and Parker was the prefect that supervised for them. Everyone was taking these seriously as it was nearing the end of March and exams were fast approaching.

Judging by how they didn't have their stuff set up already, Harry determined that the girls had just arrived, and that he was right on time. He dropped his bag on the table and then, without an iota of his usual grace, collapsed between the two. As they were sitting quite close together, this caused some commotion as they protested and tried to get out from under him.

Finally the struggle stopped, and Harry could feel the glares from either side. He was reclined comfortably with his hands behind his head and his feet propped atop his bag. Feeling a slap to his chest that really caused no pain at all, Harry cracked open an eye and appraised Lisa with a slow crooked smile. She was giving him the evil eye, her arms crossed playfully.

"Well…" he drawled, "are you guys ready to study, or what?"

Padma just shook her head, knocking Harry's feet to the side and taking out some of his parchment and a few quills. Lisa looked like she wanted to hit him a few more times, but eventually gave in and snorted.

The three set to work revising for the upcoming finals, focusing first on Astronomy. The only one they had scheduled to take before that was Charms, and they were all well ahead in that area, the girls' club giving them practice time and Harry's natural affinity keeping him tops of all the lower years. Besides, he was easily at O.W.L. level, this year having been used as a chance to get his practical work up to the level he held in theory for all the wanded subjects. In fact, Astronomy was one of the only subjects Harry hadn't studied extensively before coming to Hogwarts. As such, it was one of the few he had to work at, at all, and the only one that required serious effort. But now was the perfect opportunity; what with the Ravenclaw common room ceiling, it only made sense. As he took out a few practice charts, Harry couldn't help agreeing with the Blacks that some stars made excellent names.

All was quiet for the next hour or so, the three young Ravenclaws delving into their studies so any conversation was purely academically oriented. After awhile, Harry finally set his things aside, breathing a sigh of relief. He reclined once more, throwing his arms along the couch back and incidentally the girls' shoulders.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "I really like this sofa. I think we should claim it as our own."

Padma quirked her lips slightly, not even looking up from her work. "Yeah, and I'm sure it has nothing at all to do with the clear view of Chang." Harry blinked at her. Padma herself looked up, startled. "Did I say that out loud? Oh I'm sorry Harry." After a moment she broke out in a smile. "Doesn't make it any less true though, does it?"

Lisa looked from one to the other, breaking out in a positively predatory grin. "What's this now?" She spoke giddily, eyes begging Padma to elaborate. Unfortunately for Harry, the girl giggled and complied.

"Well you see, our Harry here, superwizard extraordinaire that he is, held out valiantly, far longer than any other male here in fact." She started dramatically, one hand gripping Harry's shoulder and a note of exaggerated pride ringing in her voice.

Harry closed his eyes wearily. "Oh no…"

Lisa was failing miserably in keeping her laughter contained. Padma smirked for the first time in Harry's memory, looking sideways at him. "However, it seems that he is, after all, only mortal." She shook her head sadly. "And last week, our dear Harry finally noticed the exotic foreign beauty that is the magnificent Cho Chang." She finished, one fist brought to her chest.

There was perhaps a split second of silence, which Harry used to cover his face with his hands, before the two burst out laughing.

Nearly the entire room turned to them bemusedly, and a few older students went to reprimand them, but it was useless. The two girls were breathless, barely holding each other up. He decided to just ignore them, and pretend he didn't know them.

What Padma was going on about was…well, sort of true, but really not. Last week, the girl had come into their Charms class to deliver a note to Professor Flitwick. In that situation, of course the entire class' attention was drawn to the visitor; how could he _not_ have noticed her? It occurred to Harry that he didn't know her name, and so he had asked Padma. Mistake number one, apparently.

It wasn't like Harry was looking to move in and seduce the older witch, or even make close friends with her at all, really. He was just curious as to her name. And, well, ok, so he thought she was pretty. And had a nice smile. But that was because _she was_ and _she did_.

Harry wondered if she was paying attention to the spectacle Padma and Lisa were putting on from where the second year was holding court with her roommate, Edgecombe.

As Harry looked up, and stole a glance that was one of more than he'd care to admit to across the room at a certain pretty Asian Ravenclaw second year, something different happened. At that very moment, the witch did the same. His gaze locked onto alluring clear bright brown eyes, exotic in the infinite shades sparkling in them.

And suddenly…Harry found himself thinking that he was really very cute, with his mussed up raven locks, intense Caribbean-blue eyes, and air of mystery shrouding him. In a few years…

'_Wait- what?_'

But before he could get his bearings, the common room and everything around him dimmed and faded. Harry was vaguely aware of everything around him slowing to an almost-stop while darkening, as if a veil had been lowered over his perception, but his attention was instead drawn to the scene now unfolding before him, as vividly as if he'd lived it himself.

The soft luminescent glow of midnight, and of billions upon billions of stars, galaxies, and any other number of cosmic and Heavenly fixtures, shone down upon sleek raven hair. Slim fingers brushed a few locks away from alert exotic chestnut eyes. The young girl wrapped her blue-trimmed robes more tightly about herself; her grip on the broomstick she carried, one she was not supposed to possess in this castle, became white-knuckled as she dashed across the lawn towards the Quidditch pitch, excitement radiating from her in the smile she couldn't keep from her lips.

Harry felt it too, the rush of adrenaline as she ran after ascertaining none were there to catch her, the anticipation of soon being in the air, of being _free_.

The one thing that was clear, the one incontrovertible fact that struck Harry about this scene, was how much being in the air meant to this girl. As he watched her twist and dive, roll out and speed off as fast as she could, all the while with her eyes closed in a picture of bliss and with a wide exhilarated smile stretching her lips, Harry couldn't help but smile softly. The feelings seemingly his own, were those of a most treasured memory.

Harry blinked, disoriented as he suddenly came back to himself. He had to suppress the urge to wince as his senses caught up with him with a vengeance. The calming low light of the common room was now uncomfortably bright, the easy murmur of conversation now a glaring cacophony pounding and reverberating through his skull.

Harry took a deep breath, and as calmly as he could, began packing his things away, needing to get back up to his room. This caught the attention of Lisa and Padma, who had finally gotten themselves under control a few minutes ago, and Padma immediately protested.

"No, don't leave. Come on Harry, you know I was only teasing." She actually looked quite upset, and Harry almost sat back down. This had nothing to do with her, and it was the first time she had really relaxed enough to be able to do that. But even as Harry rushed to assure her it was fine, Lisa was staring at him shrewdly.

"Are you alright, Harry?" She asked quietly, eyes intense. "You're looking quite pale."

The girl was just too damn perceptive. His face was perfectly composed, he even kept his eyes clear, but she had picked up on his distress anyway.

"I'm fine. Really." A carefully constructed gentle, reassuring smile and slight softening of the eyes and Harry was swiftly on his way up the stairs. Barricading himself in his room, he downed a potion for his headache and hit himself with a calming charm.

That…was his first case of accidental Legilimency. He had no control over it at all. On one hand, this was a good thing, as this started happening when one reached a certain point in their Occlumency. Only when one's shields were strong and inherent enough, and the mind known well enough would this begin. The extra strain from the block most likely carried Harry that extra step. On the other hand, this came at a most inopportune time. Harry wasn't exactly sure how frequent these little bursts of Legilimency would become, and he did not need to be worrying about it when everything with the Stone was just set to happen. Harry had plans and preparations to make, and when it came to execution, timing would be imperative. He would need full use of his mental facilities, and that is exactly what this would impair.

As unpleasant as the thought was, Harry would need to find a teacher to help with this. Occlumency could be augmented by meditation and control. It was an intensely personal discipline, and thus Harry was able to work it all on his own from an early age. Legilimency was the opposite. It was the external practice to its counterpart's internal. He would need to think on this.

-.x.**X**.x.-

The next morning at breakfast, Harry was sitting with Blaise at the Slytherin table. The two were eating whilst talking quietly, getting ready for the last day of classes before the weekend. First up at 9:30 was Herbology, which they shared.

"…and now Potter and Weasley have detention with Filch _and_ they lost 50 points apiece!" Blaise said gleefully, smirking all the while. "Of course, so does Draco, since he can't seem to keep his nose out of anything Potter does, but Professor Snape will have those points back in no time."

It might have been weird for another to tell Harry about his brother as "Potter", but not for Blaise. As Harry's closest friend, he knew Harry shared in that attitude whole-heartedly. According to the British born wizard of Italian descent, Harry acted more a Black, and as he was the heir, had begun referring to him as such.

Harry couldn't find it in himself to mind. Casey, as the firstborn, was the Potter heir, and Harry had found a family with the Blacks, something that couldn't be said in relation to the Potters.

"I still can't believe Hagrid was rearing a baby dragon in a wooden hut. I guess he may have known what he was doing, the man _is_ good with creatures, and it is pretty funny, I've got to admit."

Harry glanced down the bench to where Malfoy sat, head bowed, next to Nott, who was in a similar position. Malfoy because most of the older Slytherins were none too happy about the loss of points or the fact that he was so easily caught, and Nott to avoid catching Harry's gaze. Nothing gave way on his face, but inside, Harry was grinning viciously.

True to his word, Harry had taught the pretentious little ponce a lesson for his new muggleborn friend. As the months passed Nott grew more comfortable and therefore more bold in his bullying of Hermione. Still, he had only planned on humiliating the boy, since he was quietly appreciative for him sending Weasley and his brother to the hospital wing after the two Gryffindors had tried harassing Nora. Perhaps that was too much of an ego boost. Either way, Nott learned the painful way that there was a very distinct difference between those two and Harry.

(flashback)

Summoning a magical being was not something that was easily accomplished. Were it to be unexpected, and therefore not known to the wizard being summoned, the person's magic would instinctively fight against the spell. There were ways to overcome this, of course, but the wizards and witches with that much control and in tune with the intricacies of magic were the type who could mask their auras with a thought, and were not forced to be subject to magical blocks on their cores. Beyond this, one could simply brute strength it; if one had more magic at their disposal, they would win the magical tug-of-war. Harry was the most powerful student below sixth year. That wasn't arrogance, it was fact. And his magical potential outstripped that of anybody in the castle, perhaps even Dumbledore. However, he was not about to pit what little access to his magic he had against the whole of Nott's core. So instead, he summoned the boy's clothes.

A preemptive silencing charm took care of his yell of surprise as he flew quickly through the air and into the abandoned communal lounge Harry had chosen for this ambush. A brush of magic into a rune activated the simple but strong wards he had placed, and the door slammed shut. They wouldn't be interrupted.

Nott quickly scrambled to his feet, hands clumsily fumbling in an inner pocket for his wand as Harry advanced on him, shrouded in the shadows of the room and with undirected magic draped around him like a heady cloak. He had just managed to pull his wand when Harry made a sudden violent upward swipe with his yew wand, and Nott was sent sprawling into a rickety desk, collapsing it, as though he had been struck viciously.

Even if nothing gave away on his face or in his body language, now devoid of his wand, Harry could _feel_ the fear radiating off the boy, he could practically _taste_ it, and it gave him a slight thrill, as sadistic as that was. Harry was casting with nothing but intention, using the magic he had pooled about him and sending it raw with nothing but the effect he willed. Nott climbed to his feet once again, and Harry used the opportunity to take silent steps, circling around behind him. He watched the boy's gaze shift around in the direction his assault had come from, trying to catch a glimpse of his assailant. Intent casting was very advanced, and not necessarily in theory but in practice. And the pureblood would likely recognize it for what it was. It stood then to reason that he had come to the conclusion that he was being attacked by an older student; hence, the fear.

Harry took a wide swipe at Nott's legs, downing him for the third time, and then swung him straight through a wooden pillar. He was bleeding now and starting to bruise. With a groan, he decided to stay down. "What…what do you want?" Harry smirked. He just couldn't keep the pain out of his voice.

With a flick of his wand, Harry sent his magic out toward Nott, where it lifted the boy bodily off the ground and held him suspended in midair. Harry finally allowed himself to be seen, stepping toward him where he hung, feet about two feet above the floor, his head a little over a foot above Harry's.

"Hermione Granger is now under my protection." Harry told the boy coldly, eyes boring into Nott's own. "Both as a wizard, and the Heir of House Black."

He threw him forcefully into the corner. "Should you continue your deplorable behavior toward her, I will be forced to take further action." Harry added in such a way that clearly said he had better not continue as such, but if he did Harry would very much enjoy following through with his words.

Nott looked up at Harry's shadowed form from where he was sprawled on the dusty floor. For a moment, fear shone in his eyes, common sense and fight-or-flight survival instinct. But then, they clouded over with the Pureblood superior arrogance that had been trained into him all his life. Harry could see that it wouldn't be that easy. Good.

"Tut, tut, oh Theo…" he sighed in a mocking parody of concerned familiarity. "Unfortunately, the most important lessons are often learned the hard way." A twist of yew sent him rocketing through some old filing cabinets.

An area-effect summoning spell brought Nott's wand sailing through the air and Harry returned his to its holster. Hmm…ebony, a little longer than his holly wand, most likely 11 and a half inches. The core felt unique, of the delicate but solid variety. The impressions that flashed through his mind were of grace, timelessness, shadow, and blood. Something from a vampire? How interesting. A very dark-inclined wand.

Harry shook these thoughts away and turned to the faintly stirring pile of wreckage.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry may have over done his spell work a bit. The disillusionment charm finally faded about 20 minutes into lunch, the silencing charm right on its heels. The pureblooded heir's frightened squeaks drew the attention of the hall skyward almost immediately. There, where it was assumed the rafters were, Nott hung wide-eyed, suspended in a cloud. He was stripped down to his pants, and his bare chest bore the words "Inbred and Proud" in glowing red and gold letters, while out of his lower back grew a rather majestic peacock's tail.

There were a few moments of absolute silence until someone snorted, and the spell was broken. The entire hall began laughing uproariously.

The Weasley twins held dumbstruck looks as nearly every eye, including those of the professors, turned on them. The only exception was a bushy haired Gryffindor first year, who turned to stare at Harry at the Ravenclaw table with a shocked, scandalized, but also very touched look on her face. Harry, however, was busy gawking at Nott, quite convincingly, with the rest of the hall.

(end)

Using Nott's own wand had ensured the prank couldn't be traced, the glamours over the bruises held, and the inverted babbling curse, which caused Nott to mumble nonsense which eventually petered out into unintelligible sounds every time he tried to talk about what happened, couldn't even be found. The final touch had been a form of obliviation. Nott _knew_ what had happened, and the memory was still there, but it had no visual or audio components. That is, he could remember the incident perfectly, but any legilimens couldn't view or listen to it. It was only available to Nott on a deeper level, one that Legilimency could not reach.

Harry had further used the commotion to observe and discover that Dumbledore, Snape, Sinistra, Hector and Sabrina Moon, and Lucas Vane all fit into that category of practicing legilimens, and that only the first two were good enough to connect the feelings in the memory of fear, intimidation, and anger to Nott's associations of Harry. Not that they could act on it, as due to their positions as an educator and administrator, nonconsensual Legilimency was quite illegal.

When it was all said and done, Hermione had given Harry the fiercest hug he could ever imagine receiving. He had actually run a diagnostic spell on his ribs afterward.

Harry shook himself from his musings just in time for the swarm of post owls to pour into the hall from the rafters shrouded in the illusion of the sky outside. His attention was caught in particular by a large imperious grey eagle-owl, who after dropping a parcel in front of Malfoy hopped down the table to Harry, much to the young heir's displeasure.

Harry untied his letter with a small smile, and after a glance to see his name on the center of the envelope in Mrs. Malfoy's elegant script, deliberately tucked it in an inside pocket under the baleful eye of her son. He picked up his tea to keep from breaking out in hysterical laughter, and turned away towards Blaise, who was sporting a slight smirk and eyes that were practically twinkling. Harry agreed; this was shaping up to be a hell of a good day.

"Only you, Harry. Only you."

"Well, it's not like I had a choice in the matter. She's like a shark. It's scary." He protested. Blaise arched an eyebrow.

"What do you even talk about?" He asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

"You know…things. She's teaching me about the Blacks. I know the Family Tree, of course, but there are so many stories in between the lines…and it's not like Sirius is any kind of authority on family history."

Blaise snorted. He had finally met Sirius, after having heard so much about him from Harry, when the man had smuggled the two to The Three Broomsticks for a New Years party. That had been an interesting night, even from a sober eleven year-old's perspective.

"And then, there's always some time dedicated to sharing stories about each other. That seems to be important to her. I'm not sure why, but I know there's definitely a reason.

"Still, it's all very interesting. Did you know she has a Mastery in Ancient Runes and Runic Magic, that encompasses nineteen languages? I bet she knows a lot of rituals as well.." Harry trailed off in thought.

"I can't get past the fact that someone's got _you_ willingly sharing personal information. How ever will the enigma survive?"

Harry nodded absently, completely ignoring Blaise's needling. He could hardly believe it either. But she had waltzed, quite literally, right in and past a good deal of his barriers. It was uncanny, and for that very reason Harry would be wary and hold himself back.

'_Ah, well. Hindsight, and all that._' That party had been the start of one too many things. Not only had it opened the door for Mrs. Malfoy to move into a correspondence with Harry, but the Lighting of the Log ritual had done something to the block on his core; altered it in some unfathomable way. The most frustrating part of it was that Harry had no idea as to what, specifically, had changed. He had spent hours in the forest meditating, tuning his senses inward, and had only ascertained two distinct things.

The first was that it had settled deeper into his magic; it was more comfortable, and in times of stress worked with him. It was due to this change that Harry could once again work magic such as intent casting, which was, at present, probably the foremost advanced skill in his repertoire, next to Occlumency. The other affected the "lint roller" feature of the block. It was still extremely susceptible to magic in the environment, but the "receptacles" for creature magic were fundamentally altered. It could be nothing, but then again, it could just as easily be a very big something.

When governments wanted to restrict or control the use of some magic, this was usually an official reason provided. That magic that wasn't wand based and formulaic, or too raw or powerful for most to mess with, often didn't work the way you wanted it to. It could be unpredictable and _wild_. And to most people, this concept was terrifying. Not to Harry, though. Wizards and witches had become arrogant, thinking magic was merely a tool, and that they were its masters. To Harry, this was a reminder of how small they really were. He loved magic dearly, and couldn't wait to really delve into it seriously. But sadly, those dreams would not be realized for quite a few years yet.

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts. Right now, he and Blaise had to get to Herbology. And besides, he really should be focusing on his plans for the Stone.

-.x.**X**.x.-

"P-p-please ta-take your seats, every-everyone."

The students generally settled down, finding their places and putting conversations on hold at Quirrel's stuttered call, the Gryffindors taking only slightly longer than the Ravenclaws. Harry sat in his usual spot in the back row on the Ravenclaw side next to Lisa with Padma on her other side. He sat closest to the aisle with Dean taking the opposing seat on the Gryffindor side.

"Today w-w-we're g-going to be w-working on s-s-s-something a bit- a bit different." He announced excitedly, which was a bit unusual for the turban-headed professor. He spent the next ten minutes explaining how they would be practicing a distraction charm, to theoretically allow one the chance to escape a dangerous situation. This was indeed a refreshing treat for the first year class, as it was normally heavily theory based. They spent time (quite a lot of it) being lectured on various dark creatures, learning the standard dueling forms (and a few modified ones), and proper wand care and handling. Actually, ignoring the ever-present stutter and extreme skittishness, Quirrel was a fairly competent instructor, at least for his lower year classes. The material was appropriate, it was only the man's frightened and private demeanor that made the class a joke in some eyes.

But something was changed today. As he went on to tell them how the spell would create a loud noise off in the distance, he seemed excited, almost…anticipatory about something. It was all very odd. Was, as Harry had sometimes suspected, Professor Quirrel also involved with the Stone? Obviously he had contributed to the defenses, with the trolls, but did it go beyond that? It was clear by now that there was more to him than met the eye, clear crimson eyes were not normal after all. And now that Harry thought about it, he was maybe _overly_ unassuming and harmless. And if he was indeed involved, why was he looking anticipatory? Had something happened or was about to happen? If so, that would be very bad. Harry's plan was now almost fully formed, but there was still the implementation stage. He had letters to write, supplies to receive, and foundations to lay. He wasn't ready. His only consolation was that there was still two months until the end of the year, so he likely did have some time, but only just; he needed to get a move on.

The class broke up into pairs to practice as the desks arranged themselves against the wall with a silent wave of the professor's wand. With that stutter, Quirrel never used verbal incantations the few times he needed to use magic during class.

Lisa and Padma grouped up as always, and Harry walked to a corner with Dean. There were even pairs today, as Fay Dunbar was missing, supposedly in the Hospital Wing from a failed beauty spell. Harry briefly saw Hermione rushing towards him, but he and Dean always partnered in this class and were already next to each other. Hermione frowned but walked away. Harry wondered what she might want to talk to him about, but put it out of his mind as he saw her group up with Longbottom. She would no doubt corner him later.

"So…it looks like every chance Gryffindor had of competing for the House Cup this year have been well in truly torn to pieces, hmm?" Harry began in an extremely casual tone, belying the smug, goading smirk he shot Dean's way. The tall Gryffindor groaned, face-palming.

"Please," he begged exaggeratedly, "just let us wallow in peace. We're already in enough pain, man! And at McGonagall's own hand, too…"

Harry laughed. He didn't know about Blaise, but his day was going just as well as they'd thought.

"Weasley at least has the good grace to be avoiding everyone. Casey, on the other hand, it's like nothing ever happened! Seamus almost decked him in the dorms this morning. I held him back, though." Dean looked to be debating whether or not that was a good decision. Harry spared a brief glance over to where the two were talking quietly to each other.

"Not surprising in the least." He finally replied, taking out his wand. "Now let's do this, I haven't heard of this particular charm before."

Which made sense, since Professor Quirrel said he'd picked it up in Romania on the same trip during which he'd received the turban for getting rid of a vampire in Albania. It was one of those spells that were simple enough, and yet would always be useful. They practiced the pronunciation a few times each, before Harry decided they'd got it close enough and motioned for Dean to go first.

He cleared his throat and raised his wand. "Right- _Tapaj_!"

The whole class startled at the immediate loud noise, like that of a pile of crates toppling over sounded at no discernible point. Dean himself had his face set in embarrassed surprise, but that was quickly fading over into a broad grin. This wasn't the first time Dean had mastered a simple spell on his first try, but it was, to Harry's knowledge, the first time he'd been the first person to get it.

"V-very g-good, Mr. Thomas. Ten points t-to Gr-Gryffindor."

The Gryffindors all perked up at that after the 100 point loss of Weasley and Potter, except for Hermione who frowned petulantly. Harry fought not to roll his eyes, this was getting ridiculous. Instead he joined Finnegan in slapping Dean on the back.

"Nice one, mate."

After the bell rang Harry walked out of the Defense classroom with Dean, Lisa, Padma, and Finnegan. Dean was still in a good mood because not everyone had been able to perform the spell; only about half, and the only other Gryffindors to get it had been Seamus, Casey, and Hermione. They were currently arguing about the lack of variety in wizarding sports.

"It's not _only_ Quidditch." Harry put in. "The Americans play Quadpot, and Asia and the Middle East are big on racing. They make these pretty awesome obstacle courses and the speed they go through them… Then the southern hemisphere, that is Australia and South America, and the islands, have this big biannual stunt flying competition. They have national teams that do the most insane dives and corkscrews and whatever tricks they can come up with. And all the ancient historical games like Stitchstock, Aingingein, Creaothceann, Shuntbumps, Swivenhodge- "

"Yeah, but it's all flying on broomsticks. Like, that's it. And 'shuntbumps'? Really? Mate, that sounds like a horrible, _horrible_ disease."

"Well…ok, kinda. There's dueling." Harry added with a snap of his fingers, as it had just come to him that could be considered a sport.

"Uhuh. Anyway, wanna kick around the football tomorrow? We haven't had a chance in a few weeks."

"Yeah, sure, sounds like fun. We can- oh, you know what, you guys go on ahead, I'll catch up with you later." Harry said with a smile once he saw Hermione running up to him, as he expected.

"Alright, see ya man." Dean nodded.

"Yeah, bye Harry." Lisa added, her and Padma hugging either side of him, before the group waved and walked off towards Charms.

"There you are." She finally reached him and the two also began moving towards Flitwick's classroom at a more sedate pace. "I tried to get you in class, but…" She shrugged.

Harry gave her an indulgent smile. "I saw, but oh well. I see you and Longbottom are getting on well."

Hermione beamed. "Yeah, he's really nice. And he was in the same position as me, the other boys kind of outcast him, so we started sitting together at meals and talking. He's got a bit of a nerves problem, but he's a good person, and really passionate about Herbology."

"That's great." Harry gave her a I-told-you-you'd-make-more-friends-you-should-never-have-doubted-me look. "So, what's so important?"

"Oh! Finals are upon us!" She said anxiously. Harry couldn't help it, he snorted. Hermione glared at him quite savagely, and he quickly held his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry, sorry. That just sounded so…dire and prophetic. Like one of those doomsday people; 'The End is Nigh!'" She blushed and gave him a playful punch on the arm but would not be steered away from the subject.

"Well, ok, but we only have a month and half to go! We need to study; I can't believe I've been so careless, I should have begun revising months ago, my goodness…" Harry raised an eyebrow but she ignored him. "But it's even more important now, I'm starting tonight straight away! And you're joining me." She turned to him and added sternly, daring him to object. "We'll meet in the library tomorrow morning to make a plan and begin."

"Alright, alright, no need to Imperiorize me, I'll be there." Harry promised, deciding to just go with it.

"Good." She smiled at him, looking relieved. "Now come _on_, we're going to be late for Charms." And promptly grabbed him wrist in a vice like grip and yanked him down the corridor like so much a rag doll.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Harry stretched in his chair, arms high in the air. It was the next morning and he and Hermione had taken possession of a secluded table in the library. Their things were everywhere; bags thrown in spare chairs, notes sprawled over every flat surface available, a few muggle notebooks here and there open to some random page, inkwells and quills hidden here and there, their robes tossed to the side long ago. They had been at it for hours now. The two had discussed it, and decided to revise each subject for a week, starting with Potions. They had six weeks left to them and seven subjects to cover, but Harry had just scoffed when Hermione had asked about history. She was concerned (understatement) about Harry having a whole five days worth of History class under his belt. (the first day, and each of the four major tests Helena forewarned him of- it always caught the others by surprise seeing Harry or Blaise walk in, but they had no intention of failing a class) But Harry flat-out refused, and so she would revise for that on her own time out of her encyclopedic notes written in her personal shorthand he likely wouldn't have understood anyway.

Grudgingly, Harry would admit that this had been time well-spent. Revising had helped fill some holes in his knowledge that he hadn't even known were there, and Harry was now utilizing his much-improved Occlumency to make sure they stayed filled. Still, he was exhausted now, and needed a reprieve. Luckily, he was set to meet Dean outside.

Finished with getting circulation going again, he glanced across the table at his partner. Rather than being buried in her work as he expected, she was looking right at him, with a smug and expectant look on her face. A few moments passed in silence, Hermione looking victorious and Harry defiant. The girl buffed her nails on her chest looking haughty.

"You know, you look a lot like Cheshire right now."

She only grinned wider, showing her large front teeth. "Say it."

Harry pouted. "No."

"Saaaay it."

"No."

She raised an eyebrow.

Harry sighed. "Fine. You were…"

"Yeeeeees…?"

"Right. You were right. There, you happy now?"

"Very." Hermione held the expression for a few seconds before breaking down in laughter, muffling it in her bag so as not to bring down the wrath of Madam Pince. Harry scowled at her steadily but she just kept laughing. Finally he rolled his eyes and flicked his wand a few times, causing all his supplies to begin assembling themselves in his bag and his robes to come up behind him and hang suspended, waiting for him to slip his arms into them. Hermione's eyes no longer clouded over in jealousy at these kinds of things, but lit up in fascination, an improvement that brought a slight smile to Harry's face.

"At least now I know you'll be back tomorrow." She said finally. "Have fun with Dean, Harry."

"Why don't you come outside with me? It's not healthy what you do woman, you need breaks and fresh air." Harry said, poking her in the shoulder.

"Are you kidding me?" She returned incredulously. "It's cold out, and I do not make with the running."

"Well at least go help Longbottom with his project then. Greenhouse 2 is kept moderately warm, isn't it? And you'll still be learning something, just hands on. You need time to let all that stuff you've just crammed into your brain settle." He said, trying for a compromise. She looked to be thinking about it so he pushed a little more. "I'll show you where the kitchens are later…"

"Really?" Harry nodded and they shook hands on it. "Deal." Hermione stood and gestured airily at the table. Harry chuckled and waved his wand again, packing her things and bringing up her robe for her. "Come on Herms, it's almost noon."

"Don't you even think of calling me Herms!"

-.x.**X**.x.-

A group of Slytherins scattered as Harry rounded the corner, running down the corridor and paying them no heed. He had decided now was an excellent time to start conditioning for his dueling and dark arts training. It had occurred to him at the end of his football match with Dean that he was already warmed up, and had a session with Helena in two hours, and he wasn't likely to find a better time to start.

And so, despite the frosty air and looming rain clouds, Harry had taken a run at full speed through the foliage of the forest, and not on any particular path. This required him to not only run but jump over roots, veer out of the way of trees, duck vines, and take any other number of evasive maneuvers. The idea was to help increase his agility, as well as develop a sense for when something was about to hit him, and subsequently avoid it. For the first day, it went….as well as any first day could be expected to go. He was covered in sweat, dirt, leaves, cuts and bruises, and a small amount of blood. However, it was a good, fulfilling kind of pain. It would pay off in the end.

He made his way up to the fifth floor, clear on the other side of the castle near the South Spire, to the room he and Helena used for practical lessons.

Harry smirked in a smug manner when he approached the door. Waving his empty hand at it, he sent a pulse of magic down the newly built channel, and the door swung open without banging the wall on the other side. He was getting good at that.

Helena was already there waiting for him. She raised her eyebrows, the picture of stoicism, but Harry knew that she was impressed despite herself. She looked over his bedraggled state and gave a small sigh. "Right on schedule, I see. Be sure you're grades do not slip."

"My dear Lady Ravenclaw, one more endeavor shall hardly cause an inconvenience. And this is important- it's in the plan, it has always been in the plan. I will never allow my schooling to interfere with my education." Harry told her softly but firmly; he would not budge in this. He knew she was only worried he would bite off more than he could chew too early, especially in regards to the dark arts. He would proceed cautiously, extremely so, but it was time for him to add an offensive/combatant element to his training, and his core was plenty stable settled beneath the block. He needed balance early on, and he'd been practicing magic for nigh on six years now. As Ollivander said, his magic was refreshingly free, neutrally-oriented. Harry wasn't quite sure why, but was very thankful. His brother was already firmly entrenched in Light magic. Perhaps his upbringing influenced it, perhaps his bonding with Voldemort's wand, or being accepted as the Black Heir. It was a mystery still, but he would make full use of his potential.

"Very well. It was never my area of expertise, but I've observed plenty of those who've thrived on the battlefield. We'll discuss a regiment later. For now, today you'll be working transfiguration." Helena said, floating up towards the ceiling where she could observe and still be clearly heard. Some of that eternal sorrow always eased away when she spoke of magic used to create- the beautiful, the artistic, the inventive- and it left her glowing even brighter, her glorious luminescence casting away the gloom of the abandoned classroom.

Harry nodded and unsheathed his wands, yew in his left and holly in his right. He began blasting some of the desks and shelves into different sized bits, so he would have plenty of material to work with. Helena's eyes lingered on the yew wand for a moment before she shook herself out of it and took up her teaching voice.

"Your proficiency with this kind of magic actually greatly aids you in being able to perform little tricks such as you just showed with opening the door.

"Those gifted in Transfiguration find that nonverbal and wandless magic come much easier to them since, rather than specific spells, the Art uses certain all-purpose incantations for different types of changes. The rest relies upon the castor's willpower, intent, imagination and visualization, and power management. The greatest masters, the Sorcerers and the Mages, when working higher level magic use no conventional spells whatsoever, instead wielding their magic at a deeper level, very close to free magic casting." Harry looked at Helena in askance at the titles, but she was involved in her lecture so he didn't interrupt. "As you have seen fit to work to your O.W.L. level," She mock-chided him, "we will begin with you making the change I call out, wood first."

Harry faced the pile of wooden debris, prepared to alternate wands on each casting.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Sweat ran down Harry's bare torso as he held 23 simultaneous transfigurations around the room. It had started simply enough, as it always did. He performed one switch at a time, transfiguring the wood into various requested items, also made of wood. A rocking chair, a crib, a low bench, things of that nature. Then they started moving farther and farther away from the base material. Metals. An iron chain, adding alloys to the previous constructs in embellishments. There were a few times that Helena had had him stop and repeat it if he lost his attention to detail. From there they took a slight divergence to change the wood and metals from a solid state. Harry could only manage the minimum here. The chain he transfigured into water, an extremely useful skill to have. However, water was the only liquid he had mastered as of yet, just as oxygen was the only gas; it was basically the scientific explanation of what you were doing when you vanished something. Other liquid forms- oil, fuel, etc.- and gasses (the more reactive) would take more understanding and be useful if he ever needed to delve into explosives. A trip to the muggle world would be in order for that information.

Then it was back to transfiguring the base wood into changed states. Sawdust, sand, mud- or the other direction when he successfully petrified it. It was all about control and having a mind for every component the material he worked with was composed of.

Helena had then had him move to inanimate-to-animate. The box of old coat buttons had almost absentmindedly become a swarm of beetles, an old scarf a large iguana, the two pincushions a pair of porcupines, and the remains of the rafters six viscous crows.

Now though, was the second part of the training for tonight. Helena had him recreate every single transfiguration he had made and hold them all at the same time; he was using both wands and focusing completely on the task at hand. After everything he'd done previous it was exhausting.

"Good, good." She praised, drifting around from the sturdy metals, to the intricately crafted woodwork and finally ignoring the cacophony of the chattering animals. "Now, let's flex those magical muscles of yours, Hadrian. Up in the air with it all. And levitation spells, no animation." She added sternly. "Goddess knows those are too effortless for you, as second nature as breathing…"

Harry closed his eyes, feeling himself being stretched to his limit against his block as he pooled the magic for 23 levitation spells at the end of each charms channel, threading them into each active transfiguration held just barely back from the handle of his wands. "Winguardium Leviosa!" He gasped out once, letting all 23 bleed down the links and slowly, each rose at the same time. The animals, particularly the crows fought against being held suspended, and Harry almost lost it before sending the compulsion and asserting his will.

The next eleven minutes and eighteen seconds were absolute agony for Harry. His muscles screamed in protest, adrenaline pumping through his veins perhaps the only thing keeping him upright. The magic burned raw against his channels, the solid weight of the block never more present at the forefront of his attention.

Finally, the crib slipped a few inches, and that was it. Everything fell as Harry's control was shot, the crows, as everything else, rotted wood once more before they hit the ground. Harry collapsed, shaking uncontrollably, but still somehow managing to keep his grip on his wands, something he resolved to do at all times.

Helena watched with concern as Harry slowly recovered. It took about half an hour for the spasms to stop completely, but they did, and Harry could feel his body demanding rest. He would be confined to his room until the next day.

"I hope you realize Hadrian," She said, still watching him closely. "that this is unprecedented. You're only a first year, and with a blocked core at that. For you to be able to perform like this, to say nothing of the determination of character, is…well, astounding."

Harry was silent for a few minutes before he spoke quietly. "We use only what we're given. For whatever reason, I was given quite a lot. The least I can do is use it."

-.x.**X**.x.-

That evening saw Harry very happily relaxing in his room in comfortable muggle sweats and a hoodie. It had been an unexpectedly hectic day, and the chance to unwind and finally plan for the Stone's theft was welcomed with open arms.

Harry sat relaxed against the sill, one leg dangling languidly over the edge. As he leant on the frosted glass and enjoyed the rain battering the other side, large droplets flying fiercely on a surface less than an inch from him, Harry spun what was to be his saving grace around on a long nimble finger, the reflective obsidian glinting like ice in the dancing melody of playfully flickering candlelight and soft shadowed glow from the cloud covered sky above. He considered the magics involved, mind going over everything he needed to do.

Timing would be the most critical thing, but theoretically he could get away without ever being seen or suspected. And if it all went off and came together as beautifully as he saw it happening in his head, he may just have to learn the mad scientist cackle. Then again, that was a very big 'if'. Retrieval from the dungeon under the North Tower wasn't an issue, the plan counted on the other players in the game doing that for him, and it was that that would allow him to avoid potentially implicating himself at all. It was an entirely "watch this hand" strategy, and if it worked, Headmaster Dumbledore and the Flamels themselves would likely be the only other souls to know that the Stone had been successfully stolen. The problems lay then in ensuring he received it while everyone else was running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off, and then keeping it safe and _hidden_ for the remainder of the year. Wizards like Dumbledore and Voldemort would be able to feel such a powerful artifact just by proximity.

Subtlety would be the order of the day…redirection. Harry replaced the pendant around his neck and picked up a pad of paper to pen a letter to Sirius. He spent some time trying to be subtle and have his godfather answer his query without even being aware of it before realizing who he was writing to and tossing it into the fire. He started again, straightforwardly laying out what he needed and asking if Sirius would be able to help him out. He knew he would, Harry had always been able to depend on him, even if he tried not to.

He was just looking it over when there was a knock at his door and Harry looked over curiously. "Come in."

It was Parker. "Oh, hey Xander. What's up?"

"Hey Harry." The tall, thin prefect greeted with a nod. "Sorry to bother you so late on a weekend, especially since I noticed how tired you looked earlier, but well- this is Cho." He said, stepping aside and revealing the slightly embarrassed looking Cho Chang. "I don't know if you know, but she's a second year, and she could really use your help. I'd do it myself- but you know, O.W.L.s and everything, and I have absolutely no idea where Nat and Lucas are- think you can help her out?"

He was actually looking pretty harassed; his hair was everywhere and he had deep dark circles under his eyes. Harry nodded reassuringly. "Sure thing."

Xander just about slumped over with relief. "Thanks- I really gotta run, but we'll have another- free- guitar lesson after these bloody tests are over." And he literally ran back downstairs, leaving Cho standing there by herself. Harry stepped aside and held the door for her. "Please, come in."

"Thanks." She muttered, walking in fully and looking around the room in interest. She looked in surprised approval at the tasteful furniture and warm glow from the fireplace, veiled curiosity at the runes around the windows, and with that Ravenclaw gleam in her eyes at the overflowing bookshelves. "Wow." She said, turning in place to take it all in. "This is incredible."

Harry smiled and waved at the couch, slumping into the armchair across from it on the other side of the low coffee table. Cho sat, smoothing down her school skirt and laying her bag next to her. "So. What can I do for you Miss Chang?"

The second year finally seemed to get comfortable in immediately shooting down the address, which was the point of it. "Oh, please, call me Cho. And, well it's a little embarrassing coming to a first year for help with schoolwork, but everyone says you're the charms man, so- here I am." She gave a shrug and a grin and Harry smiled back. "Heh, it is what it is. I just hope it's not a demonstration you want, 'cause if it is, I'm afraid I can't help you right now. I'm recovering until tomorrow."

Cho frowned prettily but didn't ask. "No, it's just an essay. Warming and Drying charms? Professor Flitwick thought it'd be appropriate." She nodded at the window, and the rain hammering the other side of it.

Harry chuckled. "Gotta love Professor Flitwick. So what exactly is the problem?"

It was a little odd, sitting there and helping the girl he suspected he might have a crush on. But, he soon fell into easy conversation. He found her to be very relaxed but hard working, with a friendly sense of humor. It was no wonder she was so popular, and Harry hoped this might be the start of a friendship between the two.

-.x.**X**.x.-

An amused smile was playing on Padma's lips as she watched Harry gaze almost lovingly at the full English breakfast and neon blue Invigorating Draught spread out before him. "A thing of beauty…" He muttered to no one in particular and dug in with gusto.

"Good morning, Ravens." Susan and a very bubbly Hannah joined them in watching the spectacle. A grunt was her only reply from the dark haired boy. They turned to the girls and Padma just shrugged. "We don't know." Lisa told them, "he was off on his own most of yesterday."

At that moment, Cho Chang walked by on her way towards her friends. "Morning, Harry." She waved as she passed by. Harry hastily swallowed and grinned back. "Good morning, Cho." And with a dazzling smile she was gone.

Harry took a drink and turned to meet four pairs of bright, curious, barely restrained eyes. "What?" He asked as he set his glass down and took a satisfied gulp of air. He was just now realizing that now may be not the best time to be surrounded by girls. Where were Blaise or Dean when you needed them?

Lisa and Padma began sputtering, not sure which question to get out first so Harry turned to Susan and Hannah. "And what has you lot so chipper this early?"

"And why shouldn't we be?" Susan asked with a grin, "It's a beautiful Sunday morning, and Hufflepuff are about to flatten Slytherin. You'll come with us to the match, won't you Harry?" Both girls in yellow-trimmed robes began pouting for full effect.

"Yeah. I'm always up for some fresh air these days, no need to bat your eyes, ladies."

The group broke into laughter and they all turned to finishing their food so they could go get a good spot in the stands.

Fifteen minutes later Harry was walking down the lawns to the Quidditch pitch with Susan and Hannah. Lisa and Padma had decided to go to a study group Boot had put together with some other Ravenclaws, so it was just the three of them.

It was certainly springtime. While the air was still cool, and it was very wet outside, the rain had passed and the sun was out in vibrant clarity. It was indeed a beautiful day. This match was actually a semifinal. This year, all four teams had been so close point-wise, that a bracket-style tournament was put together to determine who would get the cup. Regrettably, Ravenclaw had already lost to Gryffindor. Their team of average players headed by a captain who was also a prefect didn't provide for an ideal focus. Then take Gryffindor, captained by the widely-recognized fanatic Wood and consisting the human bludger Weasley twins, superb all female Chaser lineup, and, Harry _very_ reluctantly admitted, talented Casey Potter. Well. It was a foregone conclusion. So now Hufflepuff and Slytherin were playing to determine who would face the Lions in the final.

There was an excited, festive air about the students as they packed into the seats, the crowd around Harry all sporting black and yellow and waving flags in the air wildly. It wasn't uncomfortable for him to be here, however, as of all the Houses at Hogwarts, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were the least insular in regards to one another. Harry supposed the next best relations after that would be between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, followed by Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, then Hufflepuff and Slytherin, with Slytherin and Gryffindor being dead last.

"WELCOME ONE AND ALL, TO THE QUIDDITCH CUP SEMI-FINAL BETWEEN HUFFLEPUFF AND SLYTHERIN!"

Cheers greeted the announcement, Lee Jordan commentating as usual and stirring up the crowd. Faint chants of "Hufflepuff!" and "Slytherin!" rose into the air, the two Houses having a small who-can-cheer-louder competition.

"AND I THINK WE'RE JUST ABOUT SET TO GET UNDERWAY HERE- YES, HERE COME THE PLAYERS-

"FOR HUFFLEPUFF- KEEPER AND CAPTAIN JOSHUA TURNER, FOLLOWED CLOSELY BY HIS TEAM: JONES, PRICE, MORGAN, ASHDOWN, PIERCE, AND DIGGORY!"

Jordan was shortly drowned out by the resounding cheers from half the school, Gryffindor joining in just on principle. They flew out of the hall that led to the player's quarters, circling around the field once before arranging before Madam Hooch.

"AND FOR SLYTHERIN: FLINT, PUCEY, MOON, SELWYN, WARRINGTON, BLETCHLEY, AAAAND HIGGS!"

Harry saw Flint, the Slytherin captain and chaser, eyeing the Hufflepuff seeker Diggory speculatively before making some kind of hand signal to his beaters, Selwyn and Warrington. The latter was only a third year but looked easily on par with his partner, who was a very solid looking fifth year.

"WE HAVE A FEW LAST WORDS TO THE TEAMS BY OUR FABULOUS REFEREE MADAM HOOCH, AND THE QUAFFLE IS IN THE AIR- AND IT'S HOLLY PIERCE FOR HUFFLEPUFF! NO, WAIT- FLINT STEALS IT BEFORE SHE CAN PASS, HANDS IT OFF TO PUCEY, WHO PASSES DOWNFIELD TO MOON, WHO SHOOTS- AND TURNER IS RIGHT THERE TO MEET HIM! NO GOAL!"

The Hufflepuff crowd roared it's approval, Hannah just about blowing out Harry's eardrum. He gave the side of his head a soothing rub, mildly surprised to find he _wasn't_ bleeding from his ears. "Oh, sorry!" She said, but didn't worry on it as they were on their feet egging on Ashdown soaring up field.

"A NIFTY LITTLE UNDERHAND PASS TO MORGAN- WATCH OUT FOR THAT BLUDGER!- MORGAN BARREL-ROLLS TO AVOID, BUT ASHDOWN IS STILL ON COURSE- BUT PRICE IS THERE TO COVER! THIRD YEAR MATT PRICE, EVERYBODY, AN IMPRESSIVE NEW FIND OF TURNER'S, WONDER HOW HE WOULD FARE AGAINST THE WEASLEY TWINS-

"WE COULD TAKE HIM!"

"MESSRS. WEASLEY, KINDLY DO NOT INTERRUPT THE GAME!"

"YES, PROFESSOR. SORRY, PROFESSOR."

Harry saw the two red headed demons high-fiving each other. The game went on, the first goal being scored with an aggressive run midfield by Marcus Flint. It wasn't a particularly high-scoring game, but with Turner at the goals, Hufflepuff eventually began pulling ahead. They were a good, solid team. They had no prodigal talent, but rather an entire team of good, dedicated players. Diggory had natural talent, and had the potential to be really good, but he was as-of-yet unrefined and lacked experience. Still, Slytherin only had one good chaser in Marcus Flint, and Hufflepuff had three. Pierce was probably the only one who matched him, but Ashdown and Morgan were leagues ahead of Pucey and Moon. Not to mention their superior beaters. Hufflepuff had a very decent chance at winning this. '_But,_' Harry privately thought, '_Slytherin would have a better chance against Gryffindor if they do go. Hufflepuff will be destroyed._'

The Slytherins were a more dynamic team. Hufflepuff may be more widely talented and stable, but they lacked that explosive quality that would be needed against Gryffindor. The Lions were unquestionably the best team this year.

Diggory was too worried about what Higgs was doing. Once when the Slytherin dived, Diggory followed thinking he'd seen the snitch. Unfortunately, he was only looking to break up a play by the Hufflepuff chasers, and Diggory only made it worse. He clocked Ashdown in the temple trying to serve out at the last second, and their chaser line lost some of its strength, allowing Slytherin to begin closing the gap. The two female chasers had a different, more agile style focusing on speed and shots made at angles. Susan groaned and buried her face in Hannah's shoulder.

"OOH, CAREFUL THERE, DIGGORY, THOSE SNAKES ARE TRICKY LITTLE BLIGHTERS!"

"I do believe that you're going to win, Susan." Harry said an hour later. The game was fast paced and pretty rough, but not brutal. Fortunately, experience or not, Diggory had that eye for the snitch, and Higgs had no chance of catching up.

"HUFFLEPUFF WINS! THEY GET A SPOT IN THE FINAL AND A NEAT LITTLE SECOND PLACE- "

"JORDAN!"

"RIGHT, SORRY PROFESSOR, BOTH TEAMS HAVE AN EQUAL CHANCE, OF COURSE…"

But the Badgers didn't care they were celebrating wildly.

"Oh, I bet there's gonna be a big party in the common room tonight." Sue said excitedly.

Harry laughed. "Ok, that's the one instance it's better not to be in Ravenclaw. I don't think we do parties." She snorted.

"Yeah, why party when you can study?" She asked sarcastically, making study sound like it was the only thing anyone would ever want to do.

"Whatever, have fun you two, I'm going to find Blaise. At least some good came of this, I can get him back for how he wouldn't shut up after we lost to Gryffindor."

As Harry walked off, he shook his head. Now that the weekend was over, his days would be spent very highly strung. It was almost time to see if his plan could be pulled off.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Later that week, Harry was sitting in Ravenclaw Tower, in one of the many small balconies occupying the walls. At first glance, it had seemed Ravenclaw was devoid of these, but in actuality it held the most. Every dormitory hallway had at least one door on the other side from the rooms. This was a small dark alcove with a low sofa and a table. From down below in the common room, they were impossible to spot, and afforded a clear view of the lounge below. Seeing as his door was literally straight across the hallway from this one, Harry was a frequent visitor.

He had just put down his Potions essay on the most common healing pastes to let it dry, when a dark hawkish looking owl swooped in from the swivel window panes above the large panorama, circled the common room once, and flew right to him to perch on the wall. Straightening, every inch business poise, the owl let out a low musical hoot and extended its leg, the heavy official parchment bearing the Gringott's crest.

Harry took it and gave the owl one of the little crisps that Hedwig loved, and that he always carried for that exact reason. The owl hooted again and took its leave with quiet dignity. Harry nodded and saluted the air where it had just been before breaking the seal, wondering what Gringott's wanted with him. He really couldn't think of a reason… '_Ah._' It was a synopsis of the useful parts from the Troll, which had apparently finally been fully harvested and processed. While interesting, he really should be focusing his attention on the problem with the Stone.

Harry began to absently scan through the list while once again trying in vain to think of a solution. However, he raised an eyebrow when he came across one little note. Bringing the letter back to his full attention, he reread that part and got a speculative gleam in his eyes. Continuing on, he found a second item of note near the bottom of the page. Humming thoughtfully to himself, Harry gained a slow smile and pulled a fresh sheaf of parchment closer, into the softly flickering light of the single candle. '_That would work._' He thought and trailed a finger over the line as the idea formed, allowing his plans to continue.

Harry rolled up his essay and banished it back to his room. This demanded his immediate attention, and time was of the essence. He needed to get his reply to the Goblins as soon as possible. He could do that now, and send off the letter to Sirius at the same time. He only hoped he could pull this off. A faint feeling of reassurance and confidence filled Harry from the shadowy companion in the back of his mind and he relaxed marginally. It would work.

-.x.**X**.x.-

Still dressed in his school uniform and robes, Harry silently ascended the stairs to the delightfully drafty Owlery. Before he could even whistle, Hedwig was there and he held out an arm. She was only up here to eat after her hunt, as most of the time she stayed with him in his room, but Harry had been so busy lately the two had spent hardly any time together. So for about twenty minutes they stood in quiet companionship, Harry stroking her soft feathers rhythmically, and Hedwig nuzzling him affectionately.

Soft footsteps preceded the heavily cloaked Cho Chang who paused in the doorway before stepping through. "Oh, hello." She walked in and found a school owl, Hedwig watching curiously and somewhat condescendingly. Harry grinned, his owl was awesome. When she finally had coaxed one down and sent him on his way, she turned to face them and leaned against the sill with a smile.

"She's beautiful." Cho said, nodding to Hedwig. "Yes, yes she is." He replied affectionately, stroking her again. Hedwig answered with a low contented noise that was more a trill than a hoot.

Harry began fixing the three letters he had to her leg. They had tried different things, an expanded leather pouch around her chest worked well but didn't suit her; Hedwig wasn't just some mail-bird, she was his familiar. And Harry didn't like just putting them in her beak; what if she needed to use it for some reason? So for now they were just tying them to her leg. Harry held each letter up, one at a time to show her before attaching them. "Gringott's." He said for the first. "Sirius." Was the second, in order of priority. "Mrs. Malfoy." She nipped his fingers and flew out on her way. Harry stood watching her vanish into the night.

"You know Lady Malfoy?" Cho asked, surprised. "You, a Potter?"

Harry couldn't help tensing, but didn't say anything to it. He held up his left hand to show her his heir ring. "Me, a Black."

"My, my. Full of surprises, aren't you?"

Harry shrugged. "Everyone has their fair share, I guess. So, I hear you're excellent in the air. How come you're not on the team?" He grimaced. "We could certainly use the talent."

Cho glared at nothing as the two began the walk back to Ravenclaw Tower. "Seniority. All the players were sixth and seventh years, and they all knew each other." She brightened then, eyes shining with determination. "But that means one thing: it'll be almost completely empty next year. Smith is stepping down, to focus on her N.E.W.T.s or something, and a lot of the others are graduating. Roger is likely to be made captain, and he is going to completely reinvent the team. Ravenclaw is going to be _the_ team at Hogwarts!"

The two talked about Quidditch and the House, and the lively conversation started working to get Harry to lighten up a bit, but his thoughts remained on the little red stone buried beneath the North Tower.

A/N: I'll have chapter 9 out as soon as possible, it'll be more important. We'll find out what happens with the stone, see more of Snape, and finally finish out first year! Harry's plan for the Philosopher's Stone was purposefully vague, so you'll just have to wait till the next chapter to see it all unfold.

I think we see the difference in Harry's attitude, don't you? Like how he is when with, friends, versus by himself, versus with Nott…


	9. Thieves In the Night

**AN: **Guess who's back (back, back), back again (gain, gain), cwamcd's back (back, back), tell a friend (friend, friend.)

Well. How the hell are ya? (grins unrepentantly) Ah, jeez I don't even know where to start. So long, feels like it's been 8 months….oh, wait. Lol. My computer broke, and then I started a new job, then I went back to school….but, really, that's no excuse since if I'd _really_ wanted to I could have found the time. I'm sorry, everybody.

And sorry for not replying to any reviews since February 28th or whatever it was, see I'd planned for the chapter to be out like a week or two later, tops, and was gonna reply to all of them at once. Obviously, that all went to hell. From now on, I'll reply as I get them, but I'm not promising anything beyond that. Really, I'm expecting flames this time around, if people review at all.

Even worse than that….this is crap, at least I think it is. And there's a lot of it too. 16,094 words, not counting the an. Yeah. Shit's all over the place too, since it was all written at different times with big gaps in between. So, basically what I'm trying to say to you all is…..I have absolutely no good news for you whatsoever. Cheers!

Oh, one last thing. It's currently a quarter after four in the morning my time, and I need to be at work in a few hours. Not to mention that I'm sure people with unresponded-to-reviews are well and truly pissed and don't want to hear from me at all. So, if you have reviewed between February 28th and now, and would like a response, drop me a line. Just something along the lines of "Hey you stupid bastard, thank me for taking time out of my life to lend you support, and answer my freaking questions. You ponce." And I'll get right back to you. I really do appreciate all you give. Thank you for reading.

**Ch. 9: Thieves in the Night**

Spellfire lit up the night in reds and blues. Hufflepuff fifth year Vanessa Caulfield sprinted desperately across the grounds, headed for the Forbidden Forest, her dark, dense salvation. She chanced a glance back at her pursuer, only to stop short and duck long enough for the stunner to fly overhead and continue back on her track. In one hand she grasped a slender honey-colored wand, used to occasionally toss a spell over her shoulder, and in the other a medium sized green and bronze chest held tight to her body.

Vanessa's golden-brown curls flew wildly behind her as she ran, and light green eyes lit in relief as a few final strides took her through the fringe of the dark forest. She hurried without pausing into the thicker canopy, heedless of the thinning trails and encroaching creatures. Taking a hard turn around a large moss-covered boulder she spun, raising her wand and focusing on the gap in the trees left behind. The second she glimpsed the black wand held in a pale hand preceding wildly billowing robes she gave a wide horizontal arch and yelled, "Everbero!"

Not sparing the time to see the man shield her bludgeoner, Vanessa completed her turn and ran on, swerving out of the way of trees and jumping over thick sprawling roots. She couldn't avoid being swiped in the side by a tangled bush, and acquired a few shallow cuts to her arm. They bled lightly, and the entire area around the point of impact darkened noticeably, the shape of her arm shifting slightly if one were to look closely.

The man she ran from was of the exceedingly dangerous variety, one of the last she would ever want to cross. Vanessa knew without a doubt that she had no hope of lasting even five minutes against him. And so she ran.

The chase became increasingly frantic over the next twenty minutes; she couldn't lead him to her true destination, and this detour route she didn't know nearly as well as other parts of the forest, and her pursuer wasn't one to be shaken off lightly. By virtue of the harsh, thick brush and a few spells he had managed to slip past her guard, she had accrued a motley collection of light injuries, the marked areas all subtly changed in some way. Tears in her robe were inundated with a noticeably finer material of robe, her skin a variety of mixed shades, and in places the yellow lining of her robes now a royal blue.

A nullification spell flew at her back, the aim dead center at her chest, a truly remarkable feat on his part. Only some vague instinct saved her, causing her to jerk aside at the last second and the spell to graze her wrist instead. The wand changed color, a darker reddish-brown bleeding through, and the hand grew less delicate, a few thin scars marring the wrist, not that the man saw this. Vanessa cursed at this last spell. '_So he knows what my cover is, but can't see past it. Well, that's as best as I could've hoped for with him…_'

Finally, she had put enough distance between them to swerve to the side and take cover behind a thick knurled tree, quickly masking herself with a silencing spell. She pressed herself as close to the trunk as possible, willing the shadows to enshroud her heaving form.

Though it was probably just her imagination, it almost seemed as if they _did_, and Vanessa took comfort in that. She willed her heart to stop pounding its wild tattoo in her chest, and her breathing to even out. Miraculously, that too seemed to be working, or at the least making slow but steady progress. The sudden utter silence catching up with her, she tensed, turning all of her senses to the spot through the foliage about twenty meters back where she _knew_, somehow, her pursuer had also come to a stop. She could just envision him, standing in absolute stillness and silence, blending naturally into the pitch blackness of the night and slowly pivoting his equally black wand back and forth, deep onyx eyes waiting for the barest movement, the slightest distortion to give away her position.

"You cannot hope to escape, thief." Snape's menacing silky tones saturated the forest, "Give yourself up now, and I shall not kill you…immediately."

Vanessa rolled her eyes despite herself, looking around for an escape route. She traced a path up the tree she was hid behind, seeing a branch extend out to a mossy bank some fifteen feet up, that then sloped off into the distance. '_If I could just get up there…'_

However, it was easier said than done. If she moved, Snape was sure to hone in like the supernatural predator he was. Vanessa was momentarily distracted when a spidery rustle of magic swept her form, before disappearing just as quickly. There was a brief moment of incomprehension, before her eyes widened and she threw herself to the ground right before a large hole was blown straight through the tree where her head had been a moment previously.

That spell… '_Wow._' She thought grudgingly, deeply impressed by both Snape's obscure repertoire and his mind magics. She had never felt that particular spell before, but was able to deduce its function due to a slight similarity to the spell used to search libraries for specific information. The only reason she recognized it was because it had been necessary to read up on the little-known branch of magic used for Sleuth, in order to make away with the prize inside the chest she held. It basically sent out a wave of sonar and relayed back to the castor. However, it was developed by a vampire, one of the kind that kept their ability to use wand magic and had the two alternate forms of bat and wolf, and as such was an innate creature sonar that was used. As such, transferring the readings to a human mind could be confusing and even disorienting. That Snape could make the transition so quickly and accurately spoke of a _very_ sharp mind.

Admitting she had no choice, Vanessa flung herself out to engage Snape as best as she could. However, before either could do anything, a large demonic looking avian of some sort descended from the craggy canopy above, all wicked talons, pitch black feathers reeking of desolation, and gleaming cruel red eyes. The bird-thing dove at Snape, and Vanessa wasted not a microsecond shooting up the tree and away from the clearing as fast as she possibly could. '_This is the craziest fucking night of my life._' The sounds of the struggle grew fainter before finally cutting off, followed by a yell of frustration as Vanessa ran out a little further into the forest, before starting to circle back around towards her original destination. She was safe now, there wasn't a chance in hell Snape could find her again, not when she was in her element at home in the darkness. '_Well, ok, maybe not. But it definitely gets a spot on the list._'

She set off comfortably now, only slight rustles of fallen leaves and brief flashes of a denser darkness marking her passage, and almost completely silent. That little wild goose chase had set her completely in the wrong area, and she had a bit of ground to recover.

(35 minutes later)

In a seemingly innocuous clearing, two Cerberuses suddenly emerged from a medium-sized bump in the ground, growling warningly. They were young, but not at all unthreatening; the larger of the two stood perhaps nine feet high and fifteen feet long. The gleaming fangs and malice-filled eyes of six heads did nothing to dissuade the notion either.

Vanessa stepped out of the trees, so that her features were cast in a patch of moonlight, still with the odd discolorations and even downright distortions. With her movement the volume of the growls increased, the ruffs on their necks standing on end and legs tensing. She stepped calmly closer to the two monstrous beasts, and finally the smaller, more wolfish one caught the scent, his brother following closely. The two relaxed, sitting back with a puppy enthusiasm and tilting their heads inquiringly.

Harry finally let what was left of his glamour fade, walking over with an impassive look on his face. He gave the two pups, both of whom now towered over him, a few pats on their shoulders. Jake rolled onto his back, kicking up dirt everywhere and presenting his belly to him. Harry obliged and rubbed his stomach, amused. '_A second ago these two were ready to rip me to pieces. Now look at them._'

"I have something here that I need you two to protect. Think you can do that for me?" A deep reverberating bark was his answer. Harry's lips twitched. "Thanks."

Just then the demon-bird came into sight, unharmed. Harry flicked his wand at it, and feathers white as snow bled through the black, revealing his faithful familiar. "You were great girl," he spoke to her softly, "I can't thank you enough."

Hedwig let out a low trill as Harry stroked her feathers. His eyes remained hard, but a slight affectionate smile adorned his lips. Then he noticed her talons; they were dripping blood.

"You really got him good, didn't you." She hooted sharply. "He didn't hit me though, I ducked." She gave him a look that clearly said '_Whatever._'

Harry quickly dug out a glass vial with a few protection charms on it and spelled the blood into it. Who knew when it would come in handy. '_I'll have to find some preservation charms later. But first, I have to get this protected._'

Harry set the chest down on the pups' cavern, taking out his holly wand. His three animal companions settled down to watch as he knelt on the ground to start the runework.

**{4 days earlier}**

Three weeks before the end of term, Harry finally got a reply from Sirius, and not a moment too soon. Only the hopelessly oblivious could miss the overwhelming tension pervading the castle. Hardly any had even an inkling as to its source, but most were aware of its presence nonetheless.

And so when, this morning, a pelican of all things (an American White if Harry wasn't mistaken; he'd recognized it from his favorite book _The Wandmaker's Guide to the Galaxy _by someone named O. Matrell) had swooped down with a letter, it was all he could do not to tear it open then and there. However, he'd somehow managed to store it in an inside pocket and wait for privacy. Privacy which he still hadn't received. And Harry was starting to get…edgy, causing his friends to not speak directly to him and let him to his thoughts.

The first years had just, finally, finished their last final exam of the year. All finals always were completed early so that the last two weeks the staff's attentions could be focused on working with the Ministry to administer the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. The 6th and 4th years were done first, the idea being that they would need the most extra free preparation time for their exams the next year, and the 6th years time to devise what their final projects would be. After that, it went down the years until the little firsties were done and most of the school could breath easier.

Harry wasted no time in breaking away from Lisa, Padma, and Blaise by slipping into the slightest shadow right out of the hall doors and ghosting down the corridor passing the mass of bodies, gone before the three could blink. The girls looked around, distressed, but Blaise just shook his head, moving them down the opposite direction. He had been expecting this given how Harry had been acting all day.

When Harry finally locked himself in his room, he wasted no time in shrugging off his school robe and sitting at his desk with the letter. He was glad the tests were over, but couldn't help feeling exceedingly confident about the results. He fully expected to be ranked the top of his year, even more so after spending the last several weeks in an intense study frenzy with Hermione. But turning his attention back to the matter at hand, Harry slit open the letter and frowned when the nifty little gadget he needed didn't fall out of it. Now more than slightly worried, he quickly started scanning Sirius's reply.

_Pup,_

_A ward scrambler? That's pretty serious equipment. I haven't heard about any pranks in the castle, and even if I had, that's a rarity. Still, Marauder's Honor I shall hear no evil by asking no questions._

_That being said, as a Ministry official I __**couldn't possibly**__ supply a young minor with such an illicit and expensive Trade item. HOWEVER, if you would think back to your birthday, when yours truly sent a certain gift in the interests of you getting the whole island experience. It strikes me that certain contents of that package with the shell removed, would likely work the same._

_I'm always happy to indulge a young Ravenclaw's inquisitive mind with purely theoretical information._

_Anyway, guess who I met last week at the portkey arrival port? Your friend Blaise's mum. And __**hot damn**__. Listen, Harry, you have got to get invited over during the summer. I would pay serious gold to see that woman in a bikini._

_Unfortunately, it looks like I'm going to be bogged down in the foreseeable future. I'm sorry pup, I'll try my hardest to get back to Britain before September. _

_How are you? How did the tests go? Don't you dare send another letter that's all business._

_Lord Black out._

Harry's face scrunched up in confusion for a few moments as he tried to think of what Sirius was talking about. Then suddenly he remembered, and he adopted a small satisfied smile as it came to him, and he realized where Sirius was going with that. The very ingenuity of using it in such a way… '_Wow, Sirius. Way to come through._' The gift Harry had received for his birthday nearly a year ago that Sirius called an "island care package" had included a few items he had no idea what to do with. Sirius had later explained that they were used by the Caribbean magical community to create a pseudo-familiar bond with an animal, to help establish a better connection with their pets and companions. It had remained untouched because, amazingly, he and Hedwig already shared a natural bond; she was his true familiar. The magical sand and shell was used to stabilize and focus the magic of the small ritual that was required, it served to ground the wizard so he could focus on his part. However, separating sand and shell would do the opposite: scramble it. Exactly what Harry was hoping for. And what's more, a faint connection would still exist between the two, a bridge if you will. That bridge, added to the proximity, would hopefully get the job done.

Yes, the plan hadn't fallen apart at all, in fact it was starting to come together. Relieved, Harry reread the rest of the letter and snorted, amused. He did hope he'd be able to see his godfather over the break, though.

.x.**X**.x.

"Master is back, Mistress."

Unbidden, the tension came. She hated it, that the little worm's presence could stir these feelings. Not fear, no never fear, but…anxiety, caution, revulsion. Narcissa nodded to the elf, Dobby or something, face a mask of stone cold impassiveness with a hint of ever present aloof disdain. Truthfully, she was grateful to it and its warnings, but such couldn't be acknowledged under the gaze of the accursed portraits. They had an unspoken understanding, the two of them.

He entered the lounge strutting much like the peacocks this rather effeminate family bred, his entire demeanor radiating smug victory. Narcissa's full lips curved slightly into the picture of a welcoming smile as delicate as painted porcelain. '_Miserable sodding bastard._' She was the picture of a devoted wife as she glided to him, embracing him and planting a light kiss to his cheek. Lucius puffed up even more, about to regal her with tales of his genius without the slightest prompting. Her eyes alone betrayed the mask she wore with such ease, not that he would notice. Not burning, no the fire had died long ago, to be replaced with something infinitely more lethal.

"My inroads with Minister Fudge are paying their dividends, Cissy." She wished she could carve the easy endearment from his lips. "I've gotten a tip that the DMLE are going to start raiding old suspects, but they're keeping it quiet." '_Yes, and it only took the better part of the year and quite a good deal of gold._' "This is the perfect opportunity to clean out and make some money from it, move the important stuff under the drawing room."

Lucius moved to pour himself a scotch, collapsing into an armchair. He looked to her expectantly, a sharp smirk on his lips and a taunting gleam in his cold grey eyes. Narcissa nodded amicably, wishing once again she was free of these chains so she could eviscerate the slimy fuck. She had every second of his murder planned out in excruciating detail. It would be slow and painful, spanning 43 days. Maybe she should let Dobby in on it.

Looking intensely at the amber liquid swirling through the crystal, containing an endless cosmic world cast from the flickering flames in the hearth, he was silent for a time. Finally, he spoke quietly, almost to himself. "Perhaps we should take this chance to be free of the- the diary. Weasley is starting a movement for an increase in mudblood rights, or some such drivel. Were he to be caught in such a scandal- well, that would be tragic. Two for the price of none, really." He downed his drink.

'_Right, brilliant. Because when- when, not if- the Dark Lord comes back, that will go over so very well. Over so petty a rivalry, I'm sure he will understand._' Narcissa said nothing, however. She couldn't, and wouldn't even if she could. Lucius didn't want her advice, he wanted her compliance and encouragement. Her mind was the reason for her current…predicament. Well, that and the marriage contract.

It was really a shame how limited Narcissa Malfoy had become. A Rune Mistress and brilliantly devious vixen she was, still but a shadow of her former self. She was a Black and a true Slytherin in every sense of the word, but with a few slight Hufflepuff qualities. Once she gave her loyalty, she gave it completely and used every ounce of her Slytherin cunning and ruthlessness for the benefit of that union. Unfortunately, the Malfoys, useless pricks that they were, had only wanted her as a trophy wife, to bask in their own pomp. Now Narcissa Black was a hunter, a predator, and someone like Lucius Malfoy could never break that, magically or otherwise. No, but the Dark Lord could. And he was very interested in the Malfoy fortune, among others, to fund his first rise.

So now she had no option but to bide her time, waiting for her moment. As Lucius left, she thought of writing to young Hadrian. _Harry_ as she had been granted permission to call him. Perhaps her family would be her salvation; perhaps it's new rising star would set her free. She wondered idly if the little enigma was up to the task.

.x.**X**.x.

Harry was, at the moment, sitting in his room, curiously inspecting his recent delivery from the Goblins. A day bag lay half-packed on the floor, but it was spared no attention for the moment. He could plot into the next century for all he wanted, the most ingenious ploy would all be for naught if Dumbledore found out he had the Stone before the year ended. And so, one of the most critical issues had been finding a way to hide it from the old man. Manipulative conniving bastard he may be, but he was considered one of the greatest wizards in the world for a reason. His magical prowess and intelligence were not to be downplayed.

When he had received a synopsis of the Troll he killed, Harry had noted that the hide, specifically from the chest plate, was known to be highly magically-masking. Furthermore, certain bones when put through a simple ritual could be made to straight out reject any and all magic whatsoever. It had been a botched ritual way back when, a slight mistake that crucially altered the outcome, and had been noted down for the potential value.

Harry had commissioned a medium sized chest to be made from these two materials from the Goblins, and they had come through. It was rectangular, about two feet high, two and a half wide, and one and a half deep. The thick greenish-grey hide was framed with thick bones as the edges, bronzed by the ritual. It was simple and ridiculously sturdy. A round dial made of smaller bones lay on top of the lid, and when turned it clicked open. No magical security, but also no magical tracking or scrying. And even an artifact as powerful as the Philosopher's Stone would be completely masked from magical senses.

There would be no reason to add magical protections anyway, as nothing Harry could do would fool the Headmaster, so better to hide than protect. And you could bet that all student possessions would be searched once Dumbledore realized the Stone was stolen. Therefore, it couldn't be kept in his room. However, it occurred to Harry that he had two guardians out there in the forest who were completely loyal and were now bigger than he was. A Cerberus was specifically used to guard things, and now Harry needed something guarded. Awfully convenient how that turned out.

That line of thinking brought him back to his plans for the day and he slid the chest under his bed, satisfied with the Goblins' work.

Today Harry was hiking out into the Scottish countryside, with the goal to find an ideal place for Jake and Elwood to spend the summer. There would be a lot more game for them to hunt in the forest, but Harry didn't feel comfortable leaving them so close to the castle. Especially since Hagrid, Snape, and Sprout would all be spending a lot more time in it off-term.

Picking up his bag, Harry added a few more bottles of water and a light lunch. His broom was summoned over from it's place on the wall above the wardrobe, and settled into Harry's brand new carrying case he had owl-ordered. They were relatively inexpensive and specifically designed so that one could charm the case. Normally, attempting to shrink or lighten a broom would interfere with it's flight. It still would, as those were professional enchantments woven into it, but the more surface charms- for stability, comfort, performance- those could get a little wonky. With the broom in the case, Harry could shrink the case and it would have no ill effects on his broom.

Harry set off alone from Ravenclaw Tower, making his way calmly down through the castle. He knew he had been neglecting spending time around any of his friends or acquaintances, and consequently the more observant would know something was up, but it was something that couldn't be helped. Blaise and Lisa, in particular, were surely keeping their eyes open. It had been at least a few days since he'd held a conversation containing anything vaguely resembling substance. However, this didn't bother him in the slightest; he'd kept his own company for far longer than he'd kept other's. More than that, the school year was almost over, and the summer would mean two months he would have to live with the Potters. It would be best to start getting in the mindset required for such arrangements sooner than later. He had learned the hard way over the years, that in that household it was best to be ignored. As a child, his parents' neglect was his happy time, and he learned to be deft in the art of remaining unseen.

The soft soothing rays of the sun kissing his pale skin, and the gentle breeze teasing along his face served to ease Harry's mind from the dark place it had descended to. Such brooding was expelled alongside the deep breath escaping his lips in a resigned sigh. What would come, would come. And Harry would deal with it as he always did. He began making his way into the forest with silent, languid steps.

Hopefully, Harry would be able to busy himself this summer as much as possible, and only spend the bare minimum around the Potters. This year, when he wasn't working on those classes he hadn't studied in-depth before Hogwarts, spending time with his friends, or dealing with one crazy plot after another, he could usually have been found training. He had worked with Helena to get his practical work up to par with his theoretical knowledge. Now, the timeline for his magical education was about to get interesting. The summer would be a time to start conditioning for his dueling practice, as well as his first small forays into the Dark Arts. So between that, and (hopefully) studying the legendary Philosopher's Stone, Harry would do all he could to avoid James, Lily, and Casey.

"Hey there you two, fancy a walk?" Harry spoke as he reached the pup's cave. They barked excitedly, causing birds to flee the trees above en masse. That finally got a smile out of the raven-haired youth, and he began leading them towards the northern edge of the forest, leaving a large band of wilderness separating them from the Hogwarts grounds, and the Scottish highlands sprawling out before them. The Forbidden Forest continued ever deeper off to the northwest, but here a gulf in the tree line was the closest perimeter. Harry set their course to continue along the lake that spanned a large portion of the valley, before angling away into some hills by way of a long desolate trailhead. The Friday afternoon was a pleasant one, and the sun was just starting its descent above the group, the two Cerberus pups running and playing excitedly. Harry returned to his introspection once again, keeping an eye on his bearings as well as Jake, but now focused on what he had to do this weekend to lay his trap. The fresh air had served to clear his mind refreshingly well.

First and foremost, he would need to lay the magically-scrambling sand covertly around the Headmaster's office. Hopefully his quarter's were attached to the office and not elsewhere, but Harry was sure that it would be in his office regardless. Still, better safe than sorry.

Next, his ankh that he wore around his neck would take up permanent residence with the rest of the sand. And he'd been playing with the idea of somehow covering it with the Headmaster's magical signature, just to be sure. The information he would need to do that would most likely be found in the Restricted Section, so he would need to find a way to get in there.

A ferocious roar and the bulky form of Jake pouncing on Elwood startled Harry out of his musings. He shook his head ruefully, but smiled nonetheless at the two rolling around. Definitely a good idea to move them.

.x.**X**.x.

The prefect patrol consisting of Lisa's older sister and one of the Americans, Armstrong, disappeared around the corner of the seventh floor corridor. After a few moments of an absolute silence, Harry moved into the darkened hall. It was late, and Hogwarts was still for the moment.

A slight commanding twitch of holly and the animation on the jar of sand activated, carrying it down about a foot off the ground, pouring a measured amount into the crevice where wall met floor. He swept steadily down the hallway and around the corner, hugging the shadows with nary a thought. Completing a rough circle around where the Headmaster's office was took only about 25 minutes and Harry still had easily half of his sand left. Mixing in a good amount of sap let off by the Whomping Willow in the summer worked as an adhesive to keep the sand from scattering all over the floor without interfering with its purpose. After all, it wouldn't do to have someone notice a random coating of sand in the hall and become curious. That had the potential of drawing way too much attention and things could spiral quickly from there.

As confident as he was likely to get with his work here, Harry then silently made his way back to the grand staircase and down one flight to the sixth floor, from where he moved to the spiraling staircase leading up to the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower.

The knocker rang startlingly sharp in the stillness of the night, and Harry looked around warily. "List five theories as to the source of magic, and explain how each justifies the muggleborn phenomenon." Even Harry had to raise his eyebrows in surprise at that one. "It's half past three in the morning, dear, that's what you get."

Harry almost jumped at that one, never having heard the bird speak that directly to someone before, but decided he better get to it.

"Well, a commonly held but seldom spoken of one is that we got our magic into our families by breeding with various magical creatures at some point long ago.

"Another is the blood belief. That pureblooded families were just of a different make than the mundane population. That magic as an unidentified substance flows through our veins, our cores somewhat the heart of it, circulating it. Their reason for this is simple. Magic stayed in the family; when they had children those children were magical. When the mundane had children, those children weren't. Both of these two theories postulate that muggleborns are descendants of squib lines long cast out of the families and magical world. They believe that even in the squib children the potential remains there, and that finally somewhere along the line it reawakened for whatever reason."

The knocker hummed in a 'go on' sort of way.

"A relatively new one has to do with genetics and evolution. That there is a magic gene. Purebloods are explained by two parents possessing the gene have an incredibly high chance of passing it to their children. Squibs are the exception, getting the dormant or recessive gene. Although I'll be the first to admit I don't know much about genetics." Harry muttered embarrassed. "But there's even a subset in this group that believes the magic gene is really just a gene unlocking the real potential of the brain, which is interesting but completely ignores the existence of the magical core. And….well, I'm afraid I don't actually know of any others." Once again embarrassed and now a little worried.

"That's alright dear, you'll just have to put your inquisitive little mind to work, now won't you?" With that the door opened, and with a murmured thanks Harry walked in, mind racing on what else people had come up with. His companion also let out a curious vibe, and Harry decided to look for answers this summer.

He began walking to the dormitory staircase but a soft call of his name stopped him in his tracks. It was Lisa, sitting on a sofa by the fire, her legs curled under her and an open book on her lap. She smiled softly at his surprise and gently patted the seat next to her. Harry frowned but walked over, sitting down. Something was up, this wasn't just a normal I've-waited-up-for-you-until-four-am conversation. In fact, he thought in realization, it probably had something to do with him not being around lately. He was regretful, certainly, that it was necessary, but Harry just couldn't find it in himself to feel guilt over the ordeal. What he was doing was important.

Lisa started by laughing at him, making him raise an eyebrow. "Honestly Harry, stop looking like you're ready to run if necessary. Relax. I just needed to- well, wanted more like….um, ha." She trailed off sheepishly, struggling with her words.

"Go on," Harry encouraged her, "no matter what it is, I won't be upset with you. You're my friend." And with that last remark, Harry saw something settle in Lisa's eyes.

"Yes, I am. And that's why I have to bring this up." She smiled apologetically. "We never talk about it, out of respect, but those people you live with, your _family_…." and her eyes burned in anger, a side Harry had never seen of her before. The smile slipped off his face as he realized where this was headed.

"Lisa…"

"No Harry this is important! You are a wonderful person, I don't understand how they can't see that."

"Um Lisa, it really isn't a big deal, I can handle it." Harry said with obvious discomfort. Lisa rolled her eyes, wiping moisture from them with her hand and sniffling a bit.

"Right, boys and _feelings_. It doesn't make you weak to feel Harry. It makes you human."

Harry let out a hollow chuckle, the bitter notes falling flat on Lisa's ears and causing a pain she swore she felt physically in her heart. "Well then, being _human_ in that house can destroy you." Both frustrated at how she'd gotten that much out of him, and flinching at the disgusted vibe coming off his companion, Harry made to leave, but Lisa was having none of it. She grabbed his arm forcefully.

"Harry I didn't sit up tonight to make you uncomfortable or to open up old wounds. If you need a place to stay this summer, you can come stay with me." Harry stopped, shocked.

"Are you serious?" He asked quietly, as if anything less delicate would cause her to retract the offer.

"If my parents don't agree I'll sneak you into my room and hide you there." She declared passionately. Leaning over to hug him tightly, she said "I love you Harry." And leaving that lingering in the air she kissed him on his cheek and went up to bed.

Harry just sat unmoving in the darkened common room, mind replaying the most sincere statement he had ever heard. It was a few hours later that he went up to his room, stashing the jar of sand under his desk before placing the shell on top and hanging the pendent to dangle overhead. Negligently, he shut his companion out as completely as he could and allowed himself a fond smile at the thought of his friend.

.x.**X**.x.

The next day had been a blissfully lazy day for most. Harry had gone down to breakfast with his friends for the first time in a few days, and without comment sat down next to Lisa. However the peace was not to last, as he actually had work to do. And so, after a simple goodbye, it had been off to the library. Walking briskly from the hall, Harry glanced back at Padma laughing with Susan and Hannah, Lisa next to her teasing all three. '_If I ever decide to take over the world, that girl right there will be in charge of both the press and my spy network._'

Harry had decided his best bet of getting into the Restricted Section was Professor Sinistra. The beautiful young Astronomer and he had a very amicable teacher/student relationship, and if he was honest with himself, she just might be his favorite professor. They usually shared a few words after lessons at the least. Not to mention, the former Ravenclaw would never want to impair learning for a young eager mind such as his own. So it was really no surprise when he had approached her after class Wednesday night for permission to search for books about the role Astronomy played in rituals, and she had given it enthusiastically.

Actually, Harry became quite interested in the subject after he had thought up his cover, and fully intended to browse for those books as well. Ritual magic was one of the purest, oldest, most powerful and dangerous forms of magic that existed. It tied together almost all magic in one way or another and was practically infinite in its uses and possibilities.

Madam Pince glanced up from his permission slip, scrutinizing. Signature or no, he was still a little too young to be let in unsupervised. So, under her truly hawk-like gaze, Harry swept along the shelves containing ancient knowledge untold, eventually finding the section and taking a few down to browse through. He had expected to be watched, and so Helena had come through earlier to locate the book he needed on sleuth, and told him before breakfast exactly where it was and what to look for to distinguish it.

Reasonably sure he had spotted it along the way, Harry half glanced at the books arrayed before him, and kept some attention eyeing the thin nondescript binding a few shelves back. Finally he scooped up five to take with him, putting the rest back where he'd found them. _Star Positions in Relation to Runework_, _The Power of the Night_, _Drawing Life From the Moon_, _Astronomy, Divination, and Rituals, _and _Looking Above to Change Within _all rose to precede him back to Pince. Getting checked out took no time at all, and soon Harry was on his way to Ravenclaw Tower, his five new books still floating and the slim inconspicuous sixth hidden in an inside pocket of his robes.

.x.**X**.x.

Harry came into his room from the bathroom and threw his robe on the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and rolled his sleeves up, preparing to lay the final piece of his trap. In the background on his coffee table, the five books on rituals from the Restricted Section were arrayed in a line. Beneath each was a blank book with a special quill poised over it. And as each page turned itself, the quills were furiously copying each word.

The untitled sleuth book had exceeded all of his expectations. Originally he had only wanted to know how to imprint someone else's magical signature on an object, in this case Dumbledore's on his ankh pendant. He had not only learned to do that, but the book had a section with step-by-step instructions to create the portkey receiver. That was done and the ankh how had a distinct shimmer to its reflective surface. Unfortunately something else had exceeded all of his expectations as well- the difficulty of laying the impression of Dumbledore's magic.

"Alright, come on Harry." He muttered to himself, trying to shake off his failures. "Just forget about the last tries. All four _bloody_ hours of them." Rifling through a drawer in his desk Harry found what he was looking for a small grey cube, and flipping it in the air he caught it victoriously before making his way to the wizarding wireless in the corner of the room. He set the recent invention of a muggleborn wizard on top of the device, and immediately "Smells Like Teen Spirit" began playing throughout the room.

Standing over the pendant, Harry twirled his holly wand thoughtfully. He brought up the memory of Dumbledore's signature from when he had felt in in the Mirror of Erised. Somehow the combined noise of Nirvana on the wireless and the rifling pages of the books let him focus solely on his project and so he began carefully. Harry concentrated on the feel of Dumbledore's magic, willing a miniscule portion of his own to take that same shape and feel. All magic leaves traces. This was simply a matter of leaving the right one. The tip of his wand began glowing a white blue with streaks of a bright gold woven in. His heart began beating faster in excitement, but Harry ruthlessly suppressed it, both desperate to not lose it and unwilling to get his hopes up. Slowly, with not a little resistance, he lowered his wand, the bright matrix of magic being brought with it, and eventually it sinuously entwined around the pendant and sank into it.

Harry grinned, completely satisfied for the first time in weeks, and sunk himself into an armchair, setting the sleuth book to copy into his private collection as well. There were all sorts of little tricks in the book, such as a complicated sonar spell that he had no hope of mastering before the year was out.

For now though, Harry was going to sleep. The block hadn't really seemed to be limiting him as much as he'd thought it would, but that was because he had been operating at high capacity. Everything he'd been performing the last few weeks had been pretty much the extent of what he could do, and it was exhausting.

.x.**X**.x.

The following day was a Sunday, and for everyone else, a time for slow smiles and swimming in the lake. Their exams were over, and classes for the last two weeks promised to be fun and interesting. Harry hadn't been so anxious the entire year. His plan was solid, and everything was set. Now, he was experiencing the worst part of it- the waiting. Just sitting around, knowing something was about to snap, just not knowing _when_ exactly. An that's when doubt sets in. It was at times like these that Harry really appreciated the sense of self-confidence he got from his companion.

"Well Harry, I'll see you later. Just shout if you need any help packing."

"Alright Xander. Good luck with the test." The prefect nodded and hurried off. Harry and Helena continued down the bright airy corridor at an easy pace. The Lady Ravenclaw glanced sideways as she floated along.

"It is a shame that we were not able to find anything of value before you must leave, but I must stress this all the more because of it. Do not give into temptation. _Wait_ to start the Dark Arts until you are back here under my supervision." Ever since the night that Harry had found Dumbledore's trap around his bed and had not been able to find Helena, the two had been trying to find a way to contact each other at any time. So far, it was a bust.

"_Once again_, I won't. Relax." Harry sighed, barely resisting rolling his eyes.

"I'm serious about this Hadrian. Mess it up in the beginning, and you could well damn yourself for good. You have been warned." She added sternly, glaring at her young student. Harry just sighed and nodded.

"Yes milady. Repeatedly."

"Very well. So, on another matter, I have heard from Headmaster Black that you plan to stay the summer at Potter Manor."

Harry frowned, glancing out of the windows they passed, but nodded. "With Sirius out of the country, my time at Grimmauld Place will be limited, and James has apparently reconstructed Potter Manor, even paid a hefty sum to have the Goblins redo the wards _exactly_ as they were before. Purportedly extensive as they are, I'm not sure with it surprised me that the Goblins would keep record."

Helena adopted a thoughtful pose and hummed in acknowledgment. "Credit then where credit is due. That was a wise move, the Potter ancestral wards have always been an envy of British magical society."

"At least the manor is supposedly quite large, with any luck I can keep to myself." Harry answered darkly, fingering the yew wand in its holster. Any thoughts Harry had of James usually involved the man facing the opposite end of that wand. A flash of reassurance came from his companion and Harry relaxed marginally. There would be a time for that, down the road.

Helena came to a stop and her student followed. "I have every confidence that it will work out in the end." She spoke consolingly. "Now I must take my leave." And she did so, right through the wall. Harry sighed, glancing at the foreboding form of the Bloody Baron watching emotionlessly before continuing on past with a nod. He was nearly late to meet with Flitwick.

He walked in to his Head's office a few minutes later, nodding politely before looking around in undisguised curiosity. Although Flitwick's office was famously open to his students at any time, Harry had yet had reason to take the man up on his offer. There were the bookshelves, of course. Enormous, floor-to-ceiling, grand oak affairs absolutely crammed with books and manuscripts of the most interesting kind. That is to say, old and leather-bound, title-less, blood-stained, hand-bound, the works. These clearly were not the everyday display textbooks. One wall displayed accolades of every kind. Trophies won from prestigious dueling tournaments, medals of respected service from real war, certifications- and then the photos. Photos of Flitwick with a parade of different faces, outside of tombs in thick jungles, in the midst of the Riviera, in grand stadiums in the magical quarters of Africa, at conventions and a staggering number of others.

Flitwick sat observing him with a proud smile from behind a truly magnificent darkly varnished desk. He was sat in what was obviously a personally-designed floating armchair, and hand his hands steepled, nodding at the chair in front of his desk when Harry made eye contact.

"I'll have to tell you the story behind some of those pictures sometime. And, perhaps one day I'll let you loose on the shelves." The professor spoke merrily. Harry's eyes lit up eagerly at the prospect, prompting a chuckle. "But alas, today we are here to talk about your year."

Harry laughed as well. "Yes sir. It's been a fantastic time."

"I'm glad to hear it. You've adjusted well? Independent life suiting you?"

"I can't possibly express how much it does, sir. I'm….well, thriving, if I do say so myself."

"That's excellent to hear! I was much the same in my youth, couldn't wait to get out and experience the world." Harry agreed enthusiastically.

"And socially?" Flitwick went on, "how've you got on with your classmates? Some find being thrown into such a large adolescent population to be a thing of horror."

Repressing a snort, as he could easily imagine how, Harry shook his head. "I actually have found more good friends than I ever thought I would. They're all great people."

"Good, good. Well then, grades." Flitwick said while rifling through a folder, finally pulling a sheet and glancing over it at Harry. "Moment of truth."

Harry rubbed his hands together, leaning forward despite himself. "Let's have it, then."

Flitwick smiled, holding off dramatically for a few seconds. "Straight Os, with the exception of Herbology and History of Magic, both EE. Well done Harry, remarkable scores. Your practical is particularly outstanding, but to say the theoretical is anything less than that would be misleading indeed. And, as I somehow doubt your finals were suddenly straight Ts, the room is yours to keep. I suspect that'll be true for the rest of your time here, hmm?"

"With any luck, sir." Harry nodded, grinning broadly in his mind.

Flitwick shook his head wryly. "Come now, son, luck has nothing to do with it."

Harry decided he really liked Flitwick.

"And if I'm not mistaken, that gives you the number one spot for your year, something your test scores will surely reflect as well. That should make your parents proud, now shouldn't it?" The half-goblin continued, watching Harry closely. He didn't flinch, but his response was noticeably bland.

"It should." That was perfectly true. Coming top of your class is something that _should_ make your parents proud. Not to say that reality is always ideal.

"I see." And the atmosphere took a remarkably somber plunge. Once more from above his long and gnarled steepled fingers, Flitwick sighed.

'_Why has everyone suddenly decided to flip their oh-so-convenient oblivious switches off?_'

"The situation that we find ourselves in is a sticky one, Mr. Black." Harry twitched at that, meeting his Head of House's eyes warily. "The questions that, responsibly and ethically, I should ask here, will accomplish nothing. Nothing positive anyway. I'm not saying I know what your home life is like, because I have no clue. Your family's image is too well crafted, as is your mask. But I've got a bad feeling, and I'm not one to ignore that, so I want you to listen closely."

Harry said nothing, just stared back unblinking.

"My oath urges me to provide aid and solace, not to ask questions. I urge you to come to me the second you have anything that _can_ lead to an improvement, alright. You have my word as a wizard that I will do all I can for you." Raising an eyebrow at the minor oath, Harry cautiously accepted the bracelet Flitwick slid over the desk to him. It was a hemp looking band with a small opaque stone tied in. "As much as I pray that my mind is over-estimating the situation, this bracelet is a portkey directly to the Hogwarts infirmary. In any case, it's best to have options." Harry nodded again, saying nothing. The professor nodded as well, equally serious.

"Now then." He spoke with a forced cheer. "Remember you don't need a reason to come by. Should you ever want to talk careers I have a handful of stories, or even just want a game of chess. But if that's all for now; you're free to leave Mr. Black."

Harry smiled wearily but slid the bracelet on and thanked the man before turning to leave. Just before he could, the professor held up a hand and slid another item over, this time a thin book.

"You know, it's truly marvelous how the magical core works. In high-stress situations, if one knows theoretically how something works, when it comes time it's easier for instinct to take over. Have a nice summer, my boy." With that, the door closed on its own. Harry noticed there was no title on the cover and turned it to read the spine.

_Transportation Magics for the Modern Wizard_

Harry tucked it into his bag and rubbed his face tiredly. While the book and portkey were invaluable, and his respect for Professor Flitwick had risen greatly, his relationship with his parents was something he'd have to deal with on his own.

'_And_.' He thought forcefully, '_I don't need distractions right now._'

.x.**X**.x.

There was something to be said of the underappreciated goodness to be found in a full, hearty dinner. Harry was sitting with Blaise and the Slytherins tonight, but their light and delicate palates would not stop him from piling his plate high with every little thing that caught his fancy. That is not to say he'd forget his manners, but he wasn't going to bed hungry either. And yes, he could quite easily see the longing lurking behind the carefully constructed looks of revulsion.

"Try not to look so put-out, Bad Faith." Harry spoke cheerfully, in direct contrast to it being a Monday. At least it was _the end_ of a Monday. "I rather doubt your complexion can handle it."

"For the love of Merlin Potter! Stop calling me that! It's Malfoy." Bad Faith looked like he was approaching wits end rather rapidly. Harry adopted a patient, somewhat condescending air.

"But this is _England_, Bad Faith. Here we speak _English_. Should we ever find ourselves together in France I'll be happy to call you Malfoy." Harry finished matter-of-factly while buttering his role. A few seats down Hector Moon, Nora's sixth year brother started laughing. Bad Faith glared at him, but as he was a measly first year, it was decidedly unimpressive.

"Bad Faith is a concept of French philosophers that is eerily fitting." He spoke to them for the first time in living memory. "I'll tell you when you're older and can better understand it." Harry looked interested, Bad Faith looked extremely irritated, and Blaise just looked amused.

"You know Draco, if you'd just call Harry by _his_ name, maybe he'd repay the courtesy." He spoke with a raised eyebrow. Harry snorted. '_Right_.'

It only drew out the infamous Bad Faith sneer as the heir glanced at his ring with loathing.

"Now now, Bad Faith; petty jealousy is no way to treat family. What _would_ your mother say?"

Blaise grinned gleefully. "Or better yet, what would that demented house elf of yours have to say?" Harry raised his eyebrows and pointed at Blaise, nodding.

"Now that is a good idea, my friend."

Draco smirked. "Well, you may have Kreacher, but I have a full staff. No way you could win." He said smugly. But Harry shook his head. "Uh-uh. You never wanna set yourself up to be surprised by Kreacher. It's generally an unpleasant experience."

The three spent the rest of dinner debating how a war would go between Kreacher and the veritable small militia of Malfoy elves, arguing that each other's elves would emerge victorious. The other first year Slytherins remained silent as always. Besides Blaise as Harry's best mate, Bad Faith was really the only other that could carry a conversation with Harry. The Ice Queen Greengrass and her friend Davis didn't deem to mingle with the commoners and Nora kept to herself most of the time, nose in a book but with intelligent eyes peeking over periodically. Nott was scared shitless of Harry and it was soon discovered that Crabbe and Goyle hadn't really learned their words yet. Likewise, Parkinson's only insult seemed to be "Shut up you stupid half-blood." And that lowered the collective intelligence of the group as a whole after awhile.

After the school was sent off to bed, Harry and Blaise snuck off down to the dungeons where they were working on a potion that was used on rune stones to keep them from reacting to others once they were in sets. It was a simple matter, especially since Dumbledore was seemingly absent from the castle tonight.

.x.**X**.x.

The Headmaster was currently sitting in a shadowed corner of the Hog's Head, nursing a brandy and ignoring Abe's glares with an ease that came from decades of practice. There lay open before him a summons to London. The Ministry indeed. Albus scoffed to himself. Really, it almost seemed Tom had lost his touch. A letter. What were they, children? Who in their right mind would send an "urgent" summons by owl, which would take a few hours, when they could simply floo? Although, there did seem to be a running joke amongst the muggleborn population hinting at magic replacing logic in the wizarding community. No, this was definitely a juvenile excuse for a diversionary tactic.

As he sat he eventually took out an intricately hand carved pipe he had acquired decades ago from an old friend and lost himself in the smoke and liquor. As blessed as he was with mind and magic, he could afford to indulge in such vices without losing himself. His thoughts were chaotic, as they often were these days, but rather than use his pensieve he had to let them wash over him. Eleven years. Eleven long years of peace, but by his perspective they had flown by as fleetingly as the whimsical rays of sunlight in his home country. Taking a deep pull from his pipe, Albus let it go with a sigh. Eleven years. He'd really thought he would have more time.

And now, here he was tonight, testing the mettle of a boy who couldn't be considered anything more than a child. Blue eyes moved slowly, and stole a glance through one particular wall, to the portrait of a beautiful young girl hanging in the room beyond. So many regrets; so many mistakes.

It was startling- he was becoming numb. But by that very truth, he couldn't bring himself to truly care. He was becoming numb to all these "necessities", this "ends justify the means" operating. Things like blocking young Hadrian's magic, the way it had become second-nature to string along everyone around him until they were all just frighteningly loyal idealist pawns that would jump at his word go. He had become the master of manipulation, and his younger self would have been disgusted. Yet, Albus just couldn't bring himself to care. He still felt the guilt, still the stabs of revulsion, still his morality screaming at him that this was wrong. None of that had diminished in the slightest. It was just, he could shrug it off without a problem. Those feelings just didn't affect him anymore.

Albus sat there until around 11:30, at which time he felt not the primary, nor secondary, not even the tertiary, but the fourth layer of his alarm wards go off. Albus smiled pleasantly. There was a part of him that was proud of his old student for getting past those three while merely a spirit, and even more of that old thrill of success at Tom not being quite good enough. It had begun. Albus tossed back his drink. He'd give it a few more minutes before walking back to the school; before leaving his doubts and what ifs and facing the future.

.x.**X**.x.

The Hogwarts dungeons were absolute in their cover of darkness as it fast approached midnight. The occasional torch burning eternally in a rusted over bracket was the only blight to the calming night, the low orange flames casting shadows into motion, hinting at the countless secrets they concealed. Harry found himself alone at last as he glided down the frosty dungeon corridor.

The potion was coming along flawlessly, just as they'd known it would, and now he was en route back to the dorms. Not in any hurry though to leave the silence and the still, tranquil darkness, he was only just approaching the final flight of stairs to the ground level when his mirror rang. Luckily he had chosen one that let out by the dueling rooms, rather than the main one in the Entrance Hall. Curious, he ducked into an alcove and answered it. Hermione's flushed and irritated face waited for him. He had given her one of the mirrors that the Marauders used after the Nott incident, just to be safe.

Hermione immediately started talking about the summer homework, but it was obvious she just wanted to physically speak to someone she didn't hate for a few moments. Harry smiled and obliged, and after being berated for being out after curfew, as was obvious by the wand light Harry had to hold aloft so she could see his face, he finally got it out of her.

"Oh," She finally spoke, rolling her eyes and blowing a lock of hair out of her face, (to no avail as it just bounced right back) "I found Neville petrified in the common room. Apparently Ronald and your brother have snuck out _again_. Neville tried to stop them losing more points but…" She trailed off with a shrug. Harry nodded. Casey was many things, but totally hopeless with a wand was not one of them. After that he finished the conversation on autopilot, trying to figure out why this seemed like it should be important to him.

.x.**X**.x.

Casey Potter and Ronald Weasley watched in triumph from under the Potter Invisibility Cloak as Peeves fled the threat of the Bloody Baron. They were on a mission tonight. No one would listen to them and Dumbledore was gone, but Snape was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone from the third floor corridor and give it to his master, You-Know-Who. Who would then not only be back, but be back with immortality and an infinite supply of gold. So really, what they were doing right now was to save the world. No big deal.

They crept slowly down the menacing corridor, keeping a wary eye on the disfigured statues and jumping at every distant noise. Finally, the two came to Fluffy's room, and Casey readied his flute, about to blow for all he was worth. After getting a nod Ron took a deep breath and threw the door wide. They burst inside, and luckily for all involved, Casey's "tune" died after just two blaring notes. There sat a large majestic harp. Its strings were moving as though invisible spidery fingers were strumming out the soft melodic music. The sound was mystical, it would have been more appropriate on the night he had found the mirror than now, when he felt the nerves so acutely. Fluffy lay collapsed, thankfully only one enormous paw was splayed over the door.

"Looks like Snape's been through here already." Casey said darkly, taking a few cautious steps closer. Though there was a moment of relief at Fluffy already sleeping soundly, it was outweighed by how real this all suddenly felt. The knowledge that Snape was really down there, and they would have to face the ominous man soon, brought fear coursing through their veins.

Ron broke the moment by drawing his wand and levitating Fluffy's paw off the door. He pulled it open with effort and let it fall as quietly as possible. The two leaned over and peered into darkness. "What do you reckon?" Ron asked solemnly.

"On three." Casey replied, swallowing the fear and taking charge. "One-"

"Two-" Casey saw the apprehension reflected in Ron's adrenaline-dilated eyes as the redhead spoke.

"Three." They jumped.

It was only in midair that the thought occurred to Casey that they might not survive the impact. However, the panic didn't even have the chance to set in before they landed hard on a soft, mossy surface.

"Whew. Lucky this plant thing's here, really." Casey said, relief taking the form of hysterical laughter in his voice. But he spoke too soon. "Wait- it's moving!"

Ron grunted. "Hold on- _Lumos_!" Realizing he should have already done so, Casey copied his friend. It was a thick black plant, winding its way around the two and squeezing progressively more tightly, passing uncomfortable and fast approaching painful. Both noticed however, that as soon as they'd lit their wands, the plant had begun squirming uncomfortably, trying to get away. Capitalizing on this, Ron quickly switched to the more aggressive version of the spell while Casey just fed more power to his, and it quickly slithered off into the darkness.

The two Gryffindors took a moment to catch their breath, the ragged pants echoing loudly in the silence.

"Well," Ron said at last. "not that I'm complaining, but that's kinda stupid."

Casey agreed, but nodded to the hallway. "Come on."

.x.**X**.x.

Harry was still wandering the castle, now somewhere on the fourth floor, but still keeping to the shadows without a thought and still not making a sound. He just couldn't shake that feeling that he was missing something, and it was slowly driving him mad. He had stopped some time ago, and was now just staring out of a window at the endless black, and beyond that thousands of stars. It had managed to captivate him.

"Young Heir." A split-second and the Hogwarts portrait magic dissipated the instinctive pounding hex in a flare of blue light from the dead center of Phineas Nigellus Black's chest. The daunting man's cold smile spoke of approval, as those emotionless eyes slid over Harry's form.

"Your aim has improved, I see. And the response was immediate. Good. And for your age, a pounding hex is appropriate, although it'd be better to go for the head with that one." Harry bowed his head, face a blank slate.

"Yes Headmaster." Everyone had their own quirks, Phineas liked to be referred to as Headmaster, an achievement he was inordinately proud of. And thankfully, all-business he got to the point right away.

"I have spoken to Kreacher, and he has informed me that Dumbledore wasn't as successful with his little trap as he'd like to believe. And believe it he does. Admirable work; you do your family proud. I've come here tonight with a little information. Professors Snape and Quirrel have left their rooms. Does that mean something to you?"

Snape and Quirrel? Well, just about everyone was out tonight that was connected to the…. His eyes widened, but only marginally. '_It's happening tonight. It's happening __**right now**_.'

"It does. Time is of the essence."

"Good." Phineas said sharply. "Go."

And he was gone, swallowed up by the shadows as he broke into a mad sprint back to his room.

.x.**X**.x.

It had cost Casey precious time working out the riddle. All the while Ron was laying on that chessboard bleeding out, helpless to any who came across him. All the while Snape was working towards the Stone, closer every second to making his escape.

Finally, though, _finally_, he had worked it out and now wasted not a second more before downing the potion and stepping through the flames, knowing he was about to see the billowing black robes of Sn…..the deep tan cloak and purple turban of Quirrel?

"You?" He blurted out, absolutely shocked.

The look on Quirrel's face as he turned to face Casey told him all he needed to know about how much he didn't know.

"Yes," the man said in a dark, sinister drawl. "Me."

.x.**X**.x.

The Dark Lord ruthlessly held his excitement in check as he reveled in the fear on the Potter boy's face when he revealed himself. It was so very close. He could feel the Stone inside of the mirror, but didn't understand how to trip the retrieval mechanism. Knowing the old man, it had something to do with emotions, the morally righteous conquering the unfeeling evil. The weird bastard took every chance he got to indulge in his Arthurian fairytale world ideologies. And in a flash of inspiration, he had Quirrel move the boy in front of the mirror. He had learned long ago to always trust his instincts.

Eleven years it had been, and now he was mere weeks away from a corporeal body. And Lord Voldemort had plans. Oh yes, plans for every individual of purpose, plans for his Horcruxes, plans for Hadrian Potter, plans for the Muggles, plans for the world. This would be his second chance, and he didn't plan on using his third. And all he needed to accomplish it all was mere inches from his servant's fingertips, in a magically created three-dimensional space.

Some of the sharpest magical senses in the world watched intensely as Potter stepped before the Mirror, obviously recognizing it. A few heartbeats, and it clicked. The expression on the boy's face melted from curiosity and confusion to one of the most pathetic mockeries of nonchalance and disappointment Lord Voldemort had ever seen.

However, he paid no attention to the lies, no attention to Quirrel forcing the boy to take a large blood-red stone from his pocket. It had happened so fast, but he had been watching as the mirror dealt out that stone, and had felt immediately how its magical presence had disappeared from the room. There was nothing for but a moment before the truth set it. He had been fooled. The old man had won. Quirrel and Potter kept up their argument and beginnings of a fight, but in the background the flames encasing the room began to rise, the heat surging exponentially. The rage began bubbling up, the kind of all-consuming rage that leaves you shaking, that dominates your being until you want to destroy all in your path. It was even worse, as with the _fractional_ amount of magic he had available didn't allow for him to vent it. It was a year wasted, with absolutely no success. He wanted to kill, he wanted to ravage, he wanted to bring this world _to its bloody fucking knees_!

It was time to leave. He was Lord Voldemort. It would all burn by his hand, in time. But for once, Dumbledore was right. Death was not the ultimate pain. Mere death would not satisfy him when it came to the old man. He would keep him alive, and he would torture him to pieces, until there was nothing left, and then he would put him back together and start over. He would ruin his bones with the darkest most vile taint magic could offer until only the demons would take him as their plaything. He would consume Albus Dumbledore's very soul. In all his life, Voldemort had never felt a hate such as this. It was a physical burn, not slow in the least but bright as a thousand suns, and it gave him strength as he left Quirrel and drifted up through the ceiling.

As he came upon the first room the Cerberus growled at him. The anger and hate rose viscously, and in no time at all Lord Voldemort invaded the dog, took it over completely with hardly any effort. He used its own heads to cruelly cut the necks open, the injuries critical. As one last parting gift, needing to use his magic, what little there was, he cast a twofold curse inwards, that would slowly eat away at both its physiology and innate magic. Lethal, but slow acting.

He left just as quickly and to the glorious howls of pain, he was gone.

.x.**X**.x.

Quirrel turned his attention towards the Potter boy, intent on retrieving the blood red stone clasped tightly in his hand. He paused, however, when he felt the threads fusing him together with his master begin to snap. They began to unwind, slowly at first, but gaining speed with every break.

"M-master, I d-don't understand! Have I not served you faithfully? I w-will get the Stone from the boy!" But with nary a derisive glance from the malevolent shade, Lord Voldemort's smoky apparition fled, gone before Quirrel could blink. He stared blankly in stunned disbelief and uncomprehending horror, completely oblivious to Potter running and diving for his discarded wand. He ignored everything even as the brat rose and began hurling mild-strength stunners at him from the side. Spells such as those would do nothing against a wizard of Quirrel's caliber, and he was preoccupied with his fate at the moment.

He could already feel it working up inside of him. His eyes clouded over in pain and he looked down at his chest where a fierce burning was consuming him. Without his master's spirit there to support him, his body and magic alone could no longer hold the curse from drinking Unicorn blood at bay. He was damned from the moment the silvery sacrosanct substance touched his lips, and Quirrel had been fully aware of it. But that was his penance, his gift to the Dark Lord. His loyalty, his life. And how had his Lord repaid him? Abandonment. '_He just…left._'

Now it was devouring him from the inside, and he had no more room for thought, only feeling. Pain. Pain like no other. Pain stemming from the righteous vengeance of the desecrated innocent.

He took no notice of the frustrated scowl crossing Casey Potter's features, nor of Albus Dumbledore running down the stairs. He did not hear the terrifying thunderous wail from above. His senses were nothing to him now, they were gone. There was only pain. Finally, his threshold was trashed and scattered, and he let out a scream of howling agony. In that last moment, a thought penetrated through to whatever was left of his mind. He was done; ruined. Nothing now but an empty shell. He was granted one last glance of this world, and then Quirrel turned to dust right as Potter threw down his useless wand and jumped at him in some sort of kamikaze melee attack and Dumbledore came thundering into the room.

.x.**X**.x.

Harry let the silencing charm on his room take care of the boom from the door against the wall. He didn't stop in his dash to the desk as he jabbed a rune, closing the door and locking up the room, but leaving a path for the Stone. '_If it works. It has to work._' Underneath his desk sat the half-full jar of magical sand, resting atop it the shell with just six miniscule runes. Hanging directly above that was his trusted ankh pendant. There was no stone, meaning he either got here I time, or it didn't work. Keeping an eye on it and praying it was the former, Harry began moving, ready to run.

He gathered a simple school robe and the Goblin-made Troll chest, then cast his glamour. This was it.

If Harry thought the last few days of waiting was hell, it was nothing compared to the next forty seven minutes. He spent the time pacing, both to keep his muscles warm and to relieve some of the nerves churning his stomach.

He stayed that way until finally, without notice, the blinding flash of a portkey lit up the room; and when it faded, there sat suspended in the air directly halfway between the shell and the pendant a blood red stone.

Harry smirked.

(flashback)

Harry stood before the Mirror of Erised, ignoring the poison burning slowly through his veins and trying to make sense of what he was looking at.

Make no mistake, Harry was out of his depth by this point, but he hadn't come all this way for nothing and so kept at it, trying to manipulate the magic in a way that made sense to him. What he was left with was…interesting. There were two…compartments, he guessed would be a good word. They appeared as two round orbs in the mirror, greenish blue in color, the various magic worked around them. Harry could guess the purposes, but didn't exactly recognize them. Some would be the dimensional space modifiers to house a three dimensional object in a mirror. Others would be for the actual housing, and still others for the retrieval.

The two were not connected directly, but both had pathways leading to a common point. The "exit" point, if Harry had to guess. The path to the left orb was brighter, suggesting that the other was possibly dormant for the moment. What Harry uncomfortably labeled the retrieval magic on the left seemed to be intent operated, but beyond that Harry couldn't tell. Perhaps storage was a feature of the mirror and Dumbledore only needed the one compartment? But no, this was all recently done, so Dumbledore had created both. So how did the other fit into it?

Peering closer, Harry took note of a small sliver near the "exit" that was attached to the retrieval, and had roots between both pathways. Harry held his wand still and slowly twisted it to the right. As he did so, the visual zoomed in, offering a closer and larger view.

Harry froze. A slow smile began to spread across his face, downright sinister in its victorious glee. He could recognize the function of that sliver, and it solved the entire puzzle for him as far as he was concerned. He had found that other factor. And it changed everything. The old man was clever, Harry would give him that. But this also brought the Stone into the realm of "accessible" to Harry. Almost on their own volition, various schemes and plans began forming in the back of his mind, some being discarded, others rethought to expand upon. Even now, Harry already could see where this was going, and smirked viscously.

That sliver was recognition and portkey activation magic. He could recognize it from having created his first portkey almost a year ago. And as he saw that, and looked between the two compartments and the pathways, a suspicion began to grow. He couldn't prove it, but his mind was working out what was set up here nonetheless. The left housed the real stone, the dormant right holding what was indubitably a fake replica. If Dumbledore was going through the trouble of all this rather than just putting a fake in a straight up method, the thief was most likely of the caliber that they would be able to feel that it wasn't the real thing, and the real one was there to lure them in. That thought gave Harry pause. Just who was trying to get their hands on immortality? No matter. So when someone activated the intent based retrieval magic, the sliver would activate, delivering the fake from the right compartment and portkeying the real away, presumably to Dumbledore's office. This would happen simultaneously, and no one would be the wiser.

(flashback end)

Harry's plan was built around not being in the room at any point and therefore not culpable in any way. After all, this was more an experiment in how much he could pull off as well as a small measure of revenge for the block. He could live without the stone. So he had worked with the portkey, as something he had at least marginal experience with.

When dealing with objects as opposed to people, it was necessary to create a portkey receiver, a sort of "landing pad". So, Harry had planted the sand around Dumbledore's office, disrupting the signal from the receiver. Even better than a ward scrambler in the long run, as a sort of bridge still existed between the sand and the shell. While that brought the Stone in the right direction, Harry had turned his ankh pendant into a receiver pad of his own. It was the obvious choice, being particularly susceptible to portkey magic, having been exposed to it already.

Now he had wasted no time at all getting it into the magically shielding chest and locking it tight. Now it was a simple manner of getting it to his Cerberuses. None should be aware of the theft at all, but just as an added precaution, it was Hufflepuff Vanessa Caulfield that slipped out of Ravenclaw Tower and began making her way to the grounds.

.x.**X**.x.

Something didn't feel right about this. It was a subtle draft in the air tonight, but whatever it was had Severus uneasy. Albus had sent the message that all was well. The other teachers had returned to their rooms, the Dark Lord had fled without success, so he had no reason to be suspicious. But he was. And that was why he was even now ascending the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office, intent on checking the Stone.

None were to know about this, even Flamel himself was to be told that the Stone had been destroyed in the struggle. The only reason Severus was always privy to more of the plans than any other was that Dumbledore was under the impression that Severus was under oath towards him (for something he never did) and therefore was obliged to be his reluctant minion forevermore.

Perhaps there was something to that, after all here he was lurking around when he could be doing real work. But no. He sighed. It was imperative Dumbledore keep him close, and he could do with a fight anyway. If he could even find one.

Leisurely, he glided through to the secret compartment in the shelving. It clicked open….empty. The next second he was back out the door, wand in hand. '_Congratulations, whoever you are. You just made my shitlist._'

He lay his ebony wand flat on his palm. "Point me thief." Immediately, it went haywire, spinning all over the place. Despite the situation, Severus allowed a sardonic smile to grace his lips. He hated children.

"Point me Philosopher's Stone." This time it didn't so much as twitch. Snape frowned. "Point me nearest moving human." Finally, it spun around once and pointed through the wall. Severus held it for a few moments, and it slowly began moving left. After a brief moment of contemplation, Severus realized which route they were taking, and took off after them, eyes glinting with malice.

Few knew these halls as well as Severus did, and taking every cut and secret passageway possible he made record time getting across the castle. He slowed before a perpendicular intersection of hallways and recast his spell, smirking when he found that he had overtaken the thief. At least, it had better be the thief. Hades help any student who had decided it was a nice night for a stroll. The Hufflepuff girl flashed by at a startling speed, but it was enough. Even in such a negligible glimpse Severus had been able to make out that it was a glamour spell.

He followed for only a few silent steps before an equally noiseless stunner flew at her back, his control so pristine that he had kept the color out of the spell. It almost looked like it was going to be over before it began, but some instinct saved his prey, and she dodged by dropping low for a second. And the chase was on.

'_Sopio._' Severus snarled as yet another advanced stunner sailed over her shoulder, and redoubled his barrage. They were through the front doors now, and the little bitch was quick. Strangely, she headed not for the village and the end of the anti-apparition wards, but the forest. He didn't exactly have time to question this, however. She risked a glance back at her pursuer, and Severus chose this moment to start a blisteringly fast spell chain. '_Lacero. Taedium. Expulso. Lacero. Discutio. Abriego. Tente. Tente. Tente._' He barely had to think the words it came so naturally, the end movements of the spells, all short and quick themselves, blurring into the beginning of the next.

Infuriatingly, she was clipped only by the second laceration curse, and only just. A shallow cut and some discoloration where the glamour faded. Severus was even forced to leap over his own acid globs. He admitted himself grudgingly impressed, both at the thief's evasive maneuvers and the strength of the illusion.

In no time at all the dark foreboding canopy exploded into being around them, and it immediately became apparent that this was familiar territory to the thief, as she actually started to move _faster_, and with more confidence. However, it was also where Severus's spell casting came alive, and the spells themselves became….not so nice. He flew around a corner only to find a bludgeoner headed straight for his face. Dismissively he flicked it back, but she was already moving again, and a tree trunk that occupied the space directly behind where her neck had been a second previously got a dark cutting curse, which burrowed its way deep into the old gnarled bark.

Eventually, both hunter and prey came to a stop, both cut up and breathing heavily. Despite the thief having gotten much further than she rightfully should have, Severus was calm. The chance to work so much dark magic after nearly the entire school year was soothing in a way that transcended the ability of words to describe.

"You cannot hope to escape, thief." Severus said in his best nonchalantly intimidating tone of voice. "Give yourself up now, and I shall not kill you…immediately." No, but he would break a few bones.

No response was forthcoming, not that he had expected one, and he let off a wave of sonar, letting the information settle into his subconscious. His wand moved almost before he had assimilated the feed and blew a hole straight through a tree some twenty meters away. Finally, the thief stepped out, and Severus could see the resignation in her glamoured eyes. A curse that would leave sudden, violent phantom pains and tremors throughout the body for weeks was on the tip of his tongue when he was dive-bombed by some demented fiend of a bird.

The assault was sudden and unrelenting. By the time he got it to flee he was bleeding heavily from a gash on his shoulder. He would swear the damn things talons were _barbed_. Severus looked around. Nothing. He let off his spell again and let his Occlumency read the results. The thief was gone.

.x.**X**.x.

Elsewhere, still out in the forest, Harry brushed his hands off and wiped the sweat from his brow, smearing dirt and leaves across his face as he stood back from his work. The sprawling latticework of runes on the bump in the earth surrounding the chest began to glow and hum, and steadily, the chest sank through and into the hill.

He turned to his Cerberus brothers. "Protect it."

Six sets of gleaming fangs were his answer.

.x.**X**.x.

Powerful cerulean eyes widened almost comically at the sight that greeted Albus Dumbledore. Young Casey Potter was on top of his former Defense professor, clawing at his face; a face that was crumbling to dust beneath the lightly tanned digits, the cursed man's ash remains scattering across the floor since the turban was discarded beforehand. Despite the macabre sight this presented, despite the fact that his young savior-in-the-making- an innocent eleven year old- had witnessed death, caused it even, Albus smiled. His arm came back to rest at his side, the long knotted wand disappearing beneath the folds of his rather eccentric robes, and a slight twinkle returned to his eyes behind half-moon spectacles.

The Stone was safe, both the useless rock clutched in Casey's hand and the real thing. Tom had been forced to flee, distastefully abandoning one of his servants to death in the process, but the key thing was that the Darkness had been held at bay that much longer. And best of all; after all these years, Albus finally had the proof that he had chosen correctly that fateful Halloween.

Young Casey indeed had a mark on him, one that could not be seen but no less powerful for it. Tom's host could not even bear the simple touch of the boy's hand. Lily's desperate desire to protect her child was a bond and protection born of love, and love was a magic more powerful than words could describe.

It warmed his heart to see the triumph of such pure good intentions. He was pleased too with the courage and resolve Casey had shown in coming here tonight to save Nicholas's Stone, even if it was unnecessary. It seemed Fate had finally thrown him a bone with the child, whose resolve to fight for what was right would no doubt only grow, and would not be forced to make the ultimate sacrifice for the cause. That would have weighed on Albus's conscience, but that would never stop him. The Dark _could not_ be permitted to rise. Albus had seen darkness in his long life, more times than he cared to count, and had seen what it could do to people. _Nothing_ was too high a price, even were it his own life. He would gladly pay it if it were ever necessary.

Thankfully, however, the strength of his convictions would never need to be proven with this boy. And still, the child of prophecy was rather remarkable in the magnitude of love within him, if Quirrel's scattered remains were anything to go by. Perhaps this was to be a tale of the battle between love and hate. It was certainly _the power the Dark Lord knows not_, as Albus had long suspected. As he lifted the child with surprising ease for someone his age and swiftly began making his way back towards the castle and hospital wing after negligently vanishing the replica Stone, Albus's thoughts turned darker as he dwelled on another suspicion of his, one pertaining to his former student's quest for immortality.

Albus knew all too well how intense, how deep-rooted Tom Riddle's fear of death was, courtesy of routine Legilimency until the boy's third year when he learned Occlumency. Were he a psychologist, he would say it was a fundamental facet of Tom's personality, the fabric of his being. The very notion of fading away, of ending, especially before he had the chance to make his mark on the world and accomplish all he possibly could, was terrifying. And it had been since he'd first witnessed death in the dangerous streets of London at the tender age of nine. Unfortunately, his determination that _that never happen_, when mixed with Tom's pure sinister genius, well… Albus fully believed the whispers that he had gone further than any other to own that fear, to master it, ensure it could not be encountered. Yes, pushing the boundaries of magic itself was right in line with something Tom would quite gleefully do.

Tom had never been one for rules, to put it lightly, and that was one of the first. It was published by an old correspondence of his, Adalbert Waffling, around a century ago in the Magical Theory book Hogwarts still used today as the first fundamental law of magic, although it was passed down by word of mouth long before that. "_Tamper with the deepest mysteries - the source of life, the essence of self - only if prepared for consequences of the most extreme and dangerous kind._" Well. Giving that book to Tom Riddle probably had the same effect as telling two young Gryffindors to stay away from the third floor corridor.

And as much as it repulsed Albus to consider, he had a gut feeling that Tom had followed the darkest path possible, and manipulated the magic and fabric of that which ought to be left untouched, that of the soul. It truly was a burden lifted to find young Casey free of Lord Voldemort's potential horcrux, but Albus was left without proof. And with the mire of murky guesswork this whole line of thought consisted of, Albus would require something more concrete before he could act with his full attention.

Reaching Madam Pomphrey's ward he set the boy onto one of the beds and sent a spell to wake the matron. These troubling thoughts would do no good for him now. For now, the day was won.

.x.**X**.x.

Each and every student was being given a short interview, no doubt to try to weed out who was out that night. However it wasn't the head responsible for their own house conducting the interviews. Dumbledore himself was questioning the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs while Snape took the Slytherins and Ravenclaws. Three guesses why, and the first two don't took a seat in the library with the first year Slytherins. Most just accepted this without question, and as the conversations started back up Harry deliberately caught Blaise's eye and held it. When Blaise gave Harry a searching look in return, Harry glanced down at some random book, just in time for Professor Snape to come up to the group. He managed to pull off looking perfectly natural and calm."We are going to go through this as quickly as humanly possible" the potions master declared without preamble. "Zabini." He began with the closest. "Where were you Monday night around midnight?" Harry gripped his quill a little tighter but didn't look at either of them. It HAD to be Blaise that said it for it to be believed in this situation. If it wasn't... But luckily Blaise didn't need a cue. "I was in the dungeons sir, working on a potion with Harry.""Indeed?"Now he would correlate with Harry since Blaise, coming from an old pureblood family, would never look someone like Snape in the eye. Harry's occlumency was good enough for just a cursory examination."Is this correct Potter?""Yes sir." And he pushed forward a memory of that very scene for Snape. It was what he was expecting to see and he didn't dig deeper."Very well." And he crossed their names off his list. "Now Malfoy..."

.x.**X**.x.

It was a day with a distinct feel in the air; one of purpose. Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, taking a long unenthusiastic look at the doors to the Entrance Hall. Today was the day. The day the train would take them all away from the castle for the summer. Away from freedom, into Hell. In fact, it would leave in just about two hours. His bags were packed, waiting for him up in his room. Jake and Elwood were moved out into the Scottish Countryside, into a small cave near an unremarkable loch about five hours hike from the forest. Hedwig was already down at the village, ready to fly alongside the train. She had no desire to be cramped into a small room all day, but wasn't willing to leave Harry alone.

With another forlorn sigh, Harry got up from the lunch table, the last in the hall to do so, and began his last walk of the year up to Ravenclaw Tower. His pace was sedate, his mood melancholy. It seemed an effort just to put one foot before the other, and walked with a clear reluctance to make anything vaguely resembling progress. Fingers trailing along the uneven stone walls, and eyes lingering in every corner that held a light memory, Harry managed to turn the fifteen minute walk into an hour and twenty minute affair. But eventually, inevitably, he had arrived.

Disregarding the hive of frantic activity he walked into in the common room, Harry headed up to his room, thinking maybe he'd go for one last fly over the grounds. However, when he pushed open the door, he found someone waiting for him to his surprise.

"Professor?"

Professor Flitwick turned from where he was staring out of the window with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Mr. Black." He said with his usual cheery expression on his face. "Absolutely marvelous, what you've done here. Imagine my surprise when I come up to a first year's room to find the residue of very sturdy _wards_. Wonderful."

"Thank you." Harry said simply. "I try."

Flitwick beamed. "Yes, you certainly do. Not nearly enough young people do these days."

Harry gave a stiff smile, still not thrilled about the impending train ride, and waited.

Picking up on this, he said, "Since our last meeting, I admit I've been thinking about ways I may help out a bit, and I think I may have something to offer. You are aware, of course, of my unique connection to the Goblin Nation?" Harry nodded, eyebrow quirked. "I can offer you a paid summer internship at Gringott's Bank." The other eyebrow joined the first.

"Seriously?" His Head of House chuckled.

"Seriously, Mr. Black. It is a general assistance position, with a fair wage. Also, they do offer some exclusive classes for employees, which you would be, during off hours. It's actually quite a prestigious opportunity, and so I'm afraid I'll require an answer immediately."

"Of course. I'd be thrilled and very grateful for the chance." Harry said with no hesitance. "Excellent, as your Head of House, I'll be able to forward your records and sign all the necessary paperwork. They'll expect you in the main lobby on Wednesday, July 1st at seven in the morning. Good luck Mr. Black." And with that he patted Harry's elbow and disappeared down the hall.

Harry checked his watch and found he really did need to be leaving. Slinging a duffle bag over his shoulder and levitating his trunk, he gave the room a last look over. Maybe he'd survive the next two months after all.

.x.**X**.x.

With much hissing and spitting, the Hogwarts Express rolled to a stop in London, to the excitement of the crowd on the platform. Harry had already said his goodbyes to Dean, Susan, Hannah, Hermione, and Cho. He was the first to stand in the compartment he was sharing with Blaise, Lisa, and Padma, since their was no use in putting it off. Time sped by abnormally fast and in the blink of an eye he had hugged the girls and shook hands with Blaise.

His steps were steady as he moved through the crowd, and it almost seemed as if they parted themselves for him, and there were the Potters. James, tall and broad and full of confidence. Next to him, Lily. Lithe and beautiful, she was hugging Casey with a tearful smile as James looked on laughing.

He stood a few feet before them, silent, waiting. It was James that noticed him first, looking straight into his eyes. "Hadrian." He said neutrally. Harry doubted anyone else would be able to see the insincerity in his smile for what it was.

"Father."


End file.
